


Just The Business Guy

by OneBlueUmbrella (bigblueboxat221b)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: AU - David Already Owns The Store, Coming Out, Developing Relationship, Fantasy Fulfillment, M/M, Patrick Brewer is a Button, Patrick Is The Business Guy, Pre-Slash, Sex, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 56,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28225866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/OneBlueUmbrella
Summary: Patrick arrives in Schitt's Creek still stinging from his breakup with Rachel. Things didn't go as planned and her words hang in his mind. When he meets David, Patrick slowly begins to realise what she had been trying to tell him all along. But is there a place for Patrick in David's life, or is he just the business guy?
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 119
Kudos: 279





	1. Chapter 1

Patrick dropped his bag on the floor, sinking to sit on the bed. At least he didn’t have to worry about furnishing this room, even if the floral was a bit much. But he could handle it for a while, for as long as it took to get his shit together. A snort of laughter, perilously close to a sob, escaped his lips. Get his shit together in Schitt’s Creek. That was…not quite ironic, but something. Pathetic, maybe, but Patrick wasn’t quite low enough to claim that label quite yet.

Taking a deep breath, he did what his dad did whenever things looked bleak. Closing his eyes, Patrick made a list of things he could be grateful for. He had enough work to keep him mostly occupied, and somewhere to live, and enough money to keep him afloat even if the work dropped off. It wasn’t supposed to be used for this, but it was his and now that he and Rachel were over, he might as well put it to use. Even if that meant he was stuck here in the nowhere town with a pink floral bedspread.

The other thing he had was a car.

Nodding to himself, Patrick stood up. There was no point staying in all the time; he had to get out and talk to some people. Rachel’s words echoed in his head and he was determined not to hide from them. If she was brave enough, he could be too.

Even if he was scared as hell.

A shower – strange in this unfamiliar house, even though he was completely entitled to do so – and a clean shirt. Patrick hesitated before deciding on his blazer instead of a more casual jacket. Better to be a little overdressed. Not that he thought there’d be a dress code around here, but still.

“Patrick?” His landlord, Ray, stuck his head around the corner as Patrick was assessing his reflection and determining it was about as good as it was going to get. “Are you going out?”

“I was, yeah,” Patrick replied, biting down the urge to ask permission. “Actually Ray, is there a bar in this town?”

“Not in Schitt’s Creek, no,” Ray said brightly, “but there is in Elmdale.” He beamed at Patrick. “You can’t miss it, it’s the only thing open after eight o’clock.”

“Right,” Patrick said. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Drive safely,” Ray told him with a big grin.

Patrick was still shaking his head – was anyone really that happy and polite all the time? – when he pulled up outside what was evidently the only bar in a twenty-mile radius of his new home. Certainly a change from Toronto. He watched several people walk into the bar, laughing together as they disappeared. Was he really going to walk into a bar on his own? Before he could talk himself out of it, Patrick pictured his bedroom. There was no way he was going to sit and stare at that mildly horrific wallpaper every night, and the only other alternative appeared to be watching a movie with Ray, so he might as well get out and meet some people. At least then there was a chance he could be one of the group walking into the bar.

_I’ll stay minimum one drink, and talk to at least three…no, two people. Not including the bartender._

Patrick nodded, making the deal with himself. That was doable. Achievable.

_Get out of the car, Brewer._

The bar was more or less what he expected, when he finally made it through the door. Low lights and loud music and the definite sense that the bar stools would be sticky. Still better than a night in with Ray, Patrick reminded himself.

“I’ll have a beer,” he said to the bartender.

A few seconds later he was seated at one of the bar stools, which lived up to his suspicion regarding their cleanliness. At least he was only wearing his second best pair of jeans, he told himself, determined to be positive. The beer was cold and there were enough people here to make it interesting. Patrick watched the crowd for a bit, wondering who he might be able to start a conversation with. Everyone seemed to be in a group, and he was reluctant to break in.

As his beer slowly emptied, Patrick began to despair that he’d have enough courage to speak to anyone. Finally, and slightly desperately, he made himself speak to the first person to come even vaguely close in several minutes.

“Hi,” he said, offering a smile. “I’m Patrick.”

She looked him up and down, a decided air of scepticism hanging about her round face. “Ronnie,” she offered, though the reluctance was thinly veiled.

“I’ve just moved here,” he said, wondering if he’d managed to offend her already.

“Good for you,” she replied, telling the bartender what she wanted.

Patrick cast around, wondering what he might be able to ask to continue their conversation. His brain was blank enough to leave him high and dry and eventually he was forced to offer a quick smile to Ronnie as she departed with her drinks. He watched as she headed off, wishing he’d been able to say more than that few words. Did it even count?

Defiantly he ordered another beer, refusing to let himself give in so soon. What was the point of moving all the way out here if he wasn’t going to actually talk to anyone?

As he stared at the door, wishing he could let himself leave but knowing his stubborn streak wouldn’t allow it, a figure walked in. Tall and striking in his leather jacket, he paused dramatically in the doorway, whether on purpose or not Patrick couldn’t tell. He felt his hand pause, bottle not quite touching his lips as he watched the man glance around the bar as though making a decision. He looked annoyed, and as he wove through the bar it looked like he was trying to avoid making eye contact. Nobody else in the bar seemed to notice him; indeed, it had filled up since Patrick arrived, and the new arrival ended up dropping into only space at the bar. Right beside Patrick.

“Red, Jake,” he ordered when the bartender came over. “That good Merlot Esmerelda makes.”

Something in that voice resonated in Patrick and he clutched at his beer bottle as he tried to steady himself. He swallowed. Holy shit. Maybe Rachel had a point after all? He shook his head, refusing to go back there.

“Honestly, what is the point of an ordering system that doesn’t keep track of what you actually have?” the man said, and it wasn’t until he turned Patrick even realised he was being spoken to. Large dark eyes looked at him expectantly, as though it was his turn to speak.

“What?” Patrick said, internally wincing at his rudeness.

“The system in my store,” the man said. “I mean, it keeps track of what comes in, why can’t it track what goes out? And I don’t know,” he waved one hand around vaguely, “do something about it? Email the vendor or something?”

“You mean inventory?” Patrick asked automatically. He was enthralled by this dynamic person, all hands waving and expressive face, and sitting right next to him. Quite close, really, now that Patrick thought about it.

“Is that what you call it?” the man said, accepting the red wine from the bartender and taking a deep drink. “Thank God they’ve taken on Esmerelda, her Merlot really is the best around here.”

Patrick blinked, the change in direction hard to follow. “You know the winemaker?”

“I wanted her to stock with me exclusively,” the man said, as though Patrick knew what he was talking about. “She’s a prickly thing, though, and insisted on selling to restaurants and bars. Well, this bar. _The_ bar.” He snorted. “The only bar anywhere near me.”

“That must be good for you, though,” Patrick said tentatively. He still wasn’t entirely sure what this man was talking about, but it seemed easy enough to keep him going. And Patrick definitely wanted to keep him talking.

“Why would that be good for me?” the man said, and something about his gaze made it clear he was finally looking properly at Patrick. His eyebrows were knitted – and what amazing eyebrows, Patrick thought distractedly. “Um, hello? Why would it be good?”

“Well,” Patrick said, with the sense that his answer here was important, “if someone buys a glass of wine here, then wants to buy more to drink at home, they’ll have to come to you, right?”

“Okay,” the man said, though he didn’t look entirely convinced.

“So by allowing her wine to be stocked in restaurants and this bar she’s exposing her brand to more people. And if they want to buy by the bottle, they have to come to you. Assuming the other places know you stock her. And you’re the only place they can buy it by the bottle.”

The man was staring and Patrick felt his face grow hot. He was prattling, Rachel would have told him, which was not always necessary. Or interesting. Oh well. At least he’d spoken to this man, which meant he could go home as soon as his beer was done. To that end he lifted his bottle and drank, avoiding the dark eyes now staring unsettlingly hard at him.

“David Rose,” the man said suddenly, turning to offer his hand in the tight space.

“Patrick Brewer,” Patrick replied, contorting himself to reach out and meet David’s hand. Why was he so relieved David was still here? And what was it about his hand in Patrick’s that sent something unfamiliar swooping through his belly?

“I haven’t seen you around,” David said, his eyes now assessing. He had an amused kind of a smile on his face and Patrick felt a flutter in his belly at the sight.

“I’m new in town,” Patrick admitted. “Well, not here exactly.”

“Where exactly?” David asked with a grin.

“Schitt’s Creek,” Patrick said, the words odd in his mouth.

David’s lips pursed, tucking the smile away. His eyes were still amused, and Patrick felt a rush of heat. “Schitt’s Creek,” he said consideringly.

“Do you know it?” Patrick asked.

“I do,” David said. “I own the general store.”

“Oh,” Patrick breathed. That made the wine conversation make sense. “In Schitt’s Creek?” He really did need to get out and see what there was to see in the town. From what he saw on his way in, it wasn’t too much of a walk from Ray’s place, though he could always drive if he couldn’t spare the time. Not that anyone was in any kind of a hurry out here, as far as he could tell.

“Yes,” David said. He frowned. “Wait, you said something about inventory.”

“Yes,” Patrick replied. “That’s what you call keeping track of what you actually have in the store.” This conversation was keeping him on his toes but he felt exhilarated rather than annoyed by the changes of direction. The energy coming from this man was invigorating.

“So you know about business stuff?” David asked, drinking as he waited for Patrick to answer.

“Yeah,” Patrick said. “I’m…I mean, I was, a business consultant.”

“A business consultant,” David breathed, as though Patrick had just told eight-year-old David he was Santa Claus.

“Is that good?” Patrick asked hesitantly. He watched David’s face change, fascinated by the emotions flashing over his features. There was obviously something important in what he’d said, but Patrick had no idea what it might be. He could only wait as David’s mind worked.

“Maybe,” David said. He cleared his throat. “So, is that what you’re doing in Schitt’s Creek?”

“Kind of,” Patrick replied. He had to think carefully about how to frame his response. “I needed…a change. So I packed up and left. I’m living with Ray Butani?” He had no idea if David knew who that was.

“The photography guy?”

“Yeah, he has a few things going on,” Patrick replied. “I’m working for him, doing some business admin and some freelance stuff. Whatever’s around.”

“Okay,” David said, nodding. He managed to nod and drink and keep his eyes on Patrick all at once.

Patrick hoped David wouldn’t ask too much about why he’d come here, so he asked a question, the first thing that came into his head. “Tell me about your store.”

“Well, it’s a general store,” David said, sitting up taller. “But it has a very specific aesthetic?” Patrick nodded, though he had no idea what David was talking about. “I’m cultivating a branded immersive environment.”

“Really,” Patrick said, feeling his eyebrows rise at David’s obvious enthusiasm for his business. “But what do you sell?”

“A range of locally sourced artisanal products sold collectively under my brand for strong customer recognition and loyalty,” David replied, the words flowing unselfconsciously from his gorgeous mouth.

Patrick nodded, ignoring his brain’s decision that David’s mouth was gorgeous. Did he even realise how much he sounded like a marketing advisor with all those buzz words flying around? From his expression he didn’t, which somehow made it…endearing. It sounded as though he had an exact idea in his head, though Patrick wasn’t entirely sure how it would actually look in practice. It would be interesting to see it in action. Besides, right now Patrick still didn’t really have any idea what David actually sold, products-wise. Except the wine, evidently.

“That’s a good idea,” he said, considering David’s words. _Locally sources artisanal products._ It really was, and as David continued to explain more of what he planned for the business Patrick could see more and more clearly why it could be a success, especially in a place like this, where individual artists were so spread out. The day trip and long weekend visitor trail was well established; it was just a matter of getting yourself on the radar and hopefully tweaking the trail so it passed through Schitt’s Creek. Watching David’s enthusiasm, Patrick couldn’t imagine how it could possibly fail. In fact, it was clever enough to make the idea viable in a range of locations, with different local products in each store…

“Have you considered expanding?” Patrick asked when David paused for both breath and wine.

David’s reaction couldn’t have been more pronounced. His wine glass dropped back to the bar fingers white around the stem. He drew a sharp breath, the energy in his body draining. To Patrick’s astonishment, the confidence was gone, replaced by the smaller, almost apologetic form that had appeared earlier. “No,” he said stiffly. “That’s not something I’m considering right now.”

“Right,” Patrick replied. He wasn’t sure what he said to elicit this reaction, but it was obviously not great. “Well it sounds like you have an excellent vision for your business.”

It didn’t help, and to Patrick’s dismay David drained his glass and stood up. “It was nice to meet you,” he said, flashing a smile that was remarkable for its insincerity.

“You too, David,” Patrick said automatically. The voice in his head was telling him to stop David from leaving, but he had no idea how he would even begin to make this man do something like that.

He watched David wind through the crowd and out the door. Well, that conversation surely counted, though he was disappointed it was cut short.

_What on earth did I say?_


	2. Chapter 2

“I just really need you to ask before you go into my bedroom,” Patrick said, hoping he was coming across as patient. It had become clear Ray had fewer personal boundaries than almost anyone Patrick had ever met, and no matter how many times Patrick brought it up he still walked into his own bedroom to find Ray beaming at him at least once every few days.

“Of course, Patrick,” Ray said cheerily. “But you have to admit your closet is far more organised now.”

“Yes, it is,” Patrick sighed. Ray was never offended, and he always said he wouldn’t do it again, and yet they kept having this conversation. “But I still need you to ask, Ray.”

It was useless of course, but Patrick couldn’t just accept it without trying to make Ray change. Living with Ray wasn’t perfect, but the commute downstairs was easy and the work didn’t stretch his skills, which left enough time for him to try and get his head together. Unfortunately in the three weeks since he’d gone out to the bar, most of his ‘getting his head together’ consisted of going on hikes and thinking about David Rose.

The courage to visit the general store had never come, nor the main part of town at all if he was honest. Driving into Elmdale wasn’t that bad, and he hardly needed to buy anything. These were the excuses he told himself, except when he was breathing hard at the top of the hill, his favourite hike. That was the only time he allowed himself to remember the feeling swooping low in his stomach when David smiled at him. And that was the reason he stayed away. Because what the hell was he supposed to do with that?

Surely Rachel was wrong. That conversation had played a thousand times in his head, and despite his courage on that first day, it had been conspicuous in its absence ever since. He’d gotten as far as leaving the house, but runs into Elmdale for essentials or to go hiking hardly counted in the ‘meeting someone’ category. Besides, Patrick already knew anyone he met couldn’t possibly be as interesting or charismatic as David Rose, and if he was too chicken to go and actually speak to David again, he didn’t deserve to meet anyone else.

Boy, that’s a healthy internal voice, Patrick told himself, shaking his head.

“Patrick?” Ray’s voice trilled from the front room.

It was over an hour since Patrick finally got Ray to leave him be, but he’d still avoided his landlord the rest of the morning. Controlling his irritation was far easier without the endless optimism all the time, and from someone as easy-going as Patrick, that was saying a lot. Patrick almost swore, but instead took a deep breath and pasted a mild look on his face as he ducked around the corner.

“B-13,” Ray said brightly, indicating the man beside him.

Patrick turned to look, and his breath caught in his throat. David Rose stood before him, one hand holding out a ticket, looking slightly lost. “This is for you,” he said finally, giving it to Patrick.

“Hi, David,” Patrick said. He swallowed. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping you might be able to help me,” David said, though he shot a glance over his shoulder to where Ray was working as he spoke.

“Sure,” Patrick said. “Was there anything in particular?”

David opened his mouth, then closed it again, looking at Patrick with something akin to guilt. “Would you mind if we stepped outside?”

“Sure,” Patrick repeated.

“Thanks,” David replied, and led the way out to Ray’s porch. When the door closed behind them, David didn’t speak, wringing his hands and glancing at Patrick again and again. Patrick wondered if he realised he was pacing; the porch wasn’t that big and his long legs only took a few steps before he had to turn.

Patrick blinked. Was he wearing a skirt? Or some kind of...kilt thing? Why was that hot?

_Focus._

“So, what can I help you with, David?” Patrick prompted, bringing his gaze back up to meet David’s remarkable chocolate eyes.

“You’re a business guy, right?” David asked. He finally stopped pacing and turned to face Patrick.

Patrick suppressed a grin. “I guess you could call me that,” he said.

David grimaced closing his eyes. Watching him gather his courage was endearing. Patrick shook his head, trying to clear his mind before David spoke again. He was a business guy. He needed to be the _business_ guy right now.

“I need some help with my business,” David said, the words appearing to cause him physical harm.

_Business._

“Okay,” Patrick said. When David didn’t speak again, Patrick added, “I’m going to need a few more details, David.”

David blew out a breath, shaking his hands as though they were on fire. When he met Patrick’s eyes they begged him to help. Something inside Patrick shifted, and he knew with certainty he could never refuse that expression.

_Wow, that could turn out to be dangerous._

“Look, would it help if I came to your store?” Patrick asked. “I mean, we could talk there without being overheard?” He could hear the question in his voice, but it was all he could think to do.

David looked at him for a few seconds. “Okay,” he said, blowing out a breath. He glanced at his watch. “Now?”

Patrick blinked. “It’s two o’clock on Wednesday. Aren’t you open today?”

“Well, yes, but we could close for this,” David said, waving one hand around.

Patrick grinned. “Well, I’m still at work,” he said. “Why don’t I come over when I’m done? Then you can stay open this afternoon.”

David blinked, as though processing Patrick’s request. “Okay,” David replied curtly. He turned to leave, then turned back, looking apologetic. “Do you know…I mean, do you know which business is mine?”

“I’m guessing there aren’t all that many in town,” Patrick said. “I haven’t actually…didn’t you say it was the general store?”

“It’s called Rose Apothecary,” David said. Was he flushing? “Most people…it’s not really a very _general_ store.”

“Oh, okay,” Patrick said. He grinned at David, feeling the same excitement from the bar crackle into being once more as David slowly returned his smile. “Well, I’ll see you around six?”

“Sure,” David said. “Um, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, David,” Patrick said. He watched David begin to walk to the road, raising one hand even though David didn’t turn around. That smile…it had something complicated behind it, tentative and a little suspicious, as though Patrick might not be entirely sincere. It set something burning in his chest, something he had never experienced and certainly didn’t understand. But he wanted to. Well. This certainly made his day far more interesting.

+++

Several hours later Patrick resisted the urge to change his shirt before he left. The very fact that he was thinking it made him pause before he decided to compromise and brush his teeth instead. That was reasonable, wasn’t it? The evening was beginning to close in so he added a jacket. More casual than his blazer, which wasn’t hard. When he finally couldn’t put it off any longer, Patrick took a deep breath. He collected a notebook and pen; this was a work meeting, after all. Even if he was wearing fresh cologne.

The walk into town was good for getting rid of his nervous energy, and he was glad he’d chosen not to drive. When he finally arrived at the crossroads, Patrick got his first real look at the middle of Schitt’s Creek. It was about as quiet as he expected; the busiest place appeared to be the café, its windows bright against the falling darkness. The only other shopfront he could see bore the bold lettering ROSE APOTHECARY across neat brickwork. Patrick stood on the far side of the street, considering it. The lights inside made it warm and inviting; he could see the clean lines of white shelves and unpainted wood, the considered palette he knew was part of David’s vision.

Obviously, this was the place.

Looking before he crossed the street was habit, though there was no traffic. Patrick approached the door, checking his watch before knocking. He was two minutes early but knocked anyway, figuring David wouldn’t mind. The door was still unlocked, so Patrick stepped inside.

It was beautiful. He’d had a glimpse from the street, but this was the immersive thing David had talked about.

Perfect rows of jars and bottles arranged on shelves, their straight lines pleasing to Patrick’s ordered mind. He breathed deeply, the mix of scents heady. Was it the candles? He wanted to explore, the layout inviting him to step closer and examine each item. It was incredible. David clearly had a gift for this.

“Patrick,” David’s voice came from his right.

“David,” Patrick said, turning to smile at him. “This is impressive.”

“Thank you,” David said. He appeared nervous as he stepped behind Patrick and flipped the sign on the door to ‘closed’, turning the lock. “Would you like me to walk you through the store?”

“Please,” Patrick said immediately.

David began by talking about the heirloom vegetable selection in front of them. Patrick was impressed how much he knew about the vendor, the way they worked and how the produce was grown. As they moved around the store and David explained more about each product, Patrick could see more and more clearly how much work David had put into building relationships with his vendors. He barely had to say a word. David was expressive and animated as he spoke, telling Patrick how hard the local people worked and how mutually beneficial the arrangement was for everyone.

It was impossible not to be nodding and smiling when they’d finally made it around the store back to the cheese fridge. Patrick wanted to buy everything, to take another trip around the store, listening to David talk forever.

_Forever?_

Patrick’s feet stopped, the force of that thought taking him unawares. David, who’d been explaining how he convinced one of the goat farmers to start making cheese for him, stopped abruptly, two paces ahead. He looked confused for a second until understanding rushed in, chased closely by the flush of embarrassment.

“You don’t care about this, do you,” he said with a pained smile. “I’m sorry, you asked for a summary, but I just can’t stop talking.”

Patrick smiled. “It’s fine,” he said. “It’s interesting.” Understatement of the century, but Patrick didn’t want to be too much.

David gave him a sceptical look, but he had half a smile tucked into his cheek. “You like hearing me talk about goat’s cheese,” he said, disbelief all over his face.

“What can I say, I have an unhealthy relationship with locally acquired artisan dairy products,” Patrick said with a grin.

David opened his mouth to reply, but Patrick could see the second he registered Patrick’s words. Well, David’s words echoed by Patrick. Surprise flickered there, and that other thing, the one Patrick couldn’t quite identify. “You were listening,” David said quietly.

“Of course I was,” Patrick replied, feeling the atmosphere pull in around them as they met each other’s eyes. The air stilled as their eyes locked. Patrick must have been holding his breath because his chest was tight when he finally tried to speak.

“So,” he started, then had to take another breath. “So, you seem to have a great handle on your products here, David. What is it I can help you with?”

David looked down at his shoes, frowning. “I started this business six months ago. I found all the vendors, organised the space, did all the business stuff.” He shifted, face twisting into a grimace as though the next words caused him physical pain as they passed his lips. “It’s the business stuff. I’m terrible at the business stuff, and I’m not making any money.” Patrick opened his mouth to respond when David blurted, “Okay, it’s not just that I’m not making money, I’m not even breaking even, and now I can barely afford to buy new stock and really, I have no idea what I’m doing.” His smile was pained.

Patrick took a deep breath, as much to settle his immediate instinct to gather David in a consoling hug as to make sure there wasn’t anything else David wanted to say.

_No. You’re just the business guy, remember?_

“You said ‘business stuff’ three times in a row, so I’m guessing that’s the problem?” Patrick said finally.

David nodded, humming agreement without meeting Patrick’s eyes.

“So you need help with the business side of things,” Patrick prompted.

“I need more money, ideally,” David clarified.

Patrick thought about that for a moment. “David, are you asking me to work for you?” Patrick said. At this point he’d probably help David for free, just to be around him more. Well, help for a while at least; he did have to do some paid work. It was definitely better to get money conversations out of the way. Working for himself had taught him that almost immediately.

“Well, I can’t exactly afford to pay you,” David said, his face flushing a deep pink. “It’s kind of a chicken and the egg situation right now.”

Patrick nodded, thinking fast. He was basically being offered the chance to work with David here. And he was doing okay at Ray’s, and besides, helping small businesses grow was what he’d always wanted to do before he and Rachel…well.

“I’d love to help,” Patrick said. “Maybe we could work out an agreement where you agree to pay me when your financial situation begins to improve.” He grinned, hoping to lighten the mood. “That’s motivation for me to get things going for you.”

David looked shocked. “You really think you can help?” he whispered.

“Of course,” Patrick said, surprised. “Isn’t that why you asked me here?”

David looked close to tears, and the laugh that burbled out had a significant portion of sob mixed in. “Kind of,” he managed to whisper.

“Are you okay?” Patrick asked. He was a bit confused and a bit alarmed. Was there some other reason David asked him here? There was the obvious, of course, but David would hardly be asking Patrick – plain, button down business guy Patrick – here for anything as interesting as what Patrick’s brain suggested.

_Stop it._

“I didn’t think there was anything anyone could do,” David whispered. “I thought I was going to go…” he waved one hand in the air, unable to say something the equivalent of ‘bankrupt.’

“Well, I’ll have to do a little digging, but most areas have grants for small businesses, especially the ones that are supporting local producers,” Patrick said. He tried not to let his relief show in his voice. David needed reassurance, and this was exactly the area Patrick could be confident in. “And no offence but if the business side isn’t something that comes easily to you, it might just be that you need someone who knows what they’re doing.”

David laughed, his voice still thick. “I do,” he said, swallowing and nodding. “I need someone to do all the business side of things.”

Patrick felt his heart swell. “Well, I’m the business guy,” he said with a grin.

“And you’re going to help me,” David said, wonder in his voice.

“You sound surprised,” Patrick commented.

David was quiet for a few moments before he replied, “I’m not used to people helping me.”

Patrick tried to hold back his surprise but he knew at least one of his eyebrows rose. “Well, I’m working with Ray tomorrow morning,” he said. “How about I come over after lunch and I can sit in the back and start looking over your books so I know what we’re working with?”

“Sounds great,” David said. “Thank you so much.”

“Sure,” Patrick said. His stomach growled and he blushed. “I’m probably gonna go and deal with that,” he said. He didn’t mention that he’d been too…something to eat after David’s visit that afternoon.

“I’m going over to the café,” David said. “If you wanted to join me.”

Patrick tried to ignore his pounding heart. “Sure,” he said. “I haven’t heard anything about it, it’s not too fancy is it?”

David snorted. “Um, no,” he said. “Fancy is not the word to describe that particular establishment.”

“Well, let’s do it then,” Patrick said.


	3. Chapter 3

“So is there something you would recommend?” Patrick asked as they walked over to the café.

“Not really,” David said. “It pays to listen to Twyla, though, sometimes she just casually drops some vital piece of information about what’s edible that day.”

They entered and sat at a booth in the corner. It felt both isolated and exposed. Patrick wasn’t sure why the platform was necessary, but the waitress came over and he turned his attention to her, pulling his eyes from David.

“Hi!” she said brightly, offering them two enormous menus.

“Twyla, this is Patrick,” David said. He hesitated, so Patrick stepped in.

“I just moved in,” Patrick said. “David’s been good enough to show me around.”

“Oh that’s lovely of you,” Twyla said, beaming at him. “Well, today I recommend the meatloaf surprise.”

“Thanks, we’ll take a second,” David told her politely. As soon as she was gone he leaned in conspiratorially, and Patrick found himself doing the same. Why did it feel intimate? “Never order anything with the word ‘surprise’ in the title,” he said seriously.

“Noted,” Patrick said. He unfolded the menu and felt his eyes widen. “Jesus…”

“Yeah, basically you want to pick something fairly plain and stick with it,” David said. His own menu sat closed as he spoke. “My sister swears by the salads, Dad likes the soup and calamari, and Mom lives dangerously.”

“She orders the specials?” Patrick asked.

“She orders without looking at the menu,” David explained. “The cook hates that, but we haven’t worked out if he’s likely to spike her meal.”

Patrick nodded seriously. This town sounded quite eccentric, but in the kind of way that made you feel part of it once you’d worked out what was what. “And what do you order?”

“Cheese burger and fries, tuna melt, mac and cheese but only on a Tuesday,” David recited. He grinned at Patrick, and it occurred to him how relaxed David was here. The contrast with his anxious self in the office across the road was remarkable.

Patrick blinked. “Wow,” he said. “Dare I ask, why Tuesday?”

“That’s the day they make it,” David explained. “It’s always the special, and they just keep it until it runs out or until Sunday, whichever comes first.”

“That doesn’t sound like it meets food safety standards,” Patrick murmured.

“Oh, it doesn’t,” David said emphatically.

“Cheeseburger it is,” Patrick said, closing his menu. He grinned at David, feeling warm when their smiles collided, eyes locking together before David’s face become more serious.

“You should order your own fries,” David said. “I don’t share food.”

“Fair enough,” Patrick said. “Are they good fries, at least?”

“Passable,” David replied, and his tone was serious enough to tell Patrick he’d probably spent quite a while deciding on this exact description. It added to the ‘adorable’, but Patrick ignored his brain. This was about getting to know his business partner. Employer? Either way, the man he’d be working with, so he should keep other stuff out of it. Especially since he had no idea what the other stuff actually was.

Twyla returned, and Patrick was happy for David to order for them both. When his phone buzzed before Twyla had actually left, he made a face and mouthed ‘sorry’ at David.

“Excuse me,” he murmured, quickly reading the message and sending a short reply. “Sorry. Um, is it okay if I come in tomorrow morning instead of afternoon? Ray wants me to help him with something later on.”

“Sure,” David replied easily. “But I have to let you know I’m not a morning person at all, so if I haven’t had my coffee I can’t be responsible for my actions.”

“Noted,” Patrick said with a smile. “I’ll talk quietly and in small words.”

“That’s very considerate,” David told him, glancing over at the bar as though wondering where their drinks were.

“So does your family live in town?” Patrick asked. He’d thought it was an innocuous enough question but to his surprise, David froze, his eyes wide and alert as they locked on Patrick’s. From relaxed to tense in half a second, Patrick thought in astonishment. He was about to retract the question when David answered.

“Yes,” David replied. He took a deep breath. “We live here. My whole family, they live here. In Schitt’s Creek.”

Patrick nodded. There was clearly more to that, but David had pulled into himself again, so he wouldn’t pursue it. A part of Patrick wondered if everyone could read David so well, or if... “So, what made you want to open the store?”

David shrugged. “They wanted to open a Christmas World,” he said, shuddering. His eye closed and Patrick swallowed, wondering what else might make him shudder and close his eyes like that.

_Will you stop it? This. Is. A. Business. Meal._

“Here?” Patrick asked. “Permanently?”

“I know,” David replied. “And I’d been thinking about getting some of the local crafts people together for a while, and my mother – she’s on the Town Council – she practically begged me to put in an application so we wouldn’t have to walk past what passed for decorations there all year round.”

Patrick raised one eyebrow. “She begged you?”

His instinct – that David was slightly exaggerating the conversation with his mother – must have been right, because David looked at him, amused and impressed. “Are you saying she didn’t beg me, Patrick?”

“I would never make such an accusation, David,” Patrick retorted. “I’m sure she was positively desperate for you to open your business instead.”

David’s eyes narrowed, but the smile he finally produced told Patrick there were no hard feelings after the exchange. If anything, David seemed to have relaxed a little more as he talked about his vision.

“Well either way, I knew I wanted to make something like the markets they have out here,” David said. “But they’re spread all over, and not all the vendors can afford to go to all of them, and of course nothing runs in winter.” They both smiled and thanked Twyla as their meals and drinks arrived. “So I thought, if I can bring them all together in a one-stop-shop retail environment it would benefit both the vendor and the customer.”

Patrick barely noticed his burger. David was doing that thing again. The thing where he talked like a marketing executive, and damned if Patrick wasn’t entirely charmed by it.

“Yeah,” Patrick finally managed, reaching for the ketchup without looking, “Yeah, that’s a great…oh.”

His fingers had closed not over the ketchup bottle but something warm, and he froze. “That’s not the ketchup, is it?”

“Nope,” David said, his eyes still locked on Patrick’s. He looked far more amused than horrified.

“I’ll just…” Patrick murmured, pulling his hand back.

They sat in silence, Patrick looking around the room with interest he didn’t feel while most of his attention was on David. For his part, David squeezed a considerable pool of ketchup on the side of his plate before setting the bottle in front of Patrick.

“Thanks,” Patrick muttered. He opened his burger to add ketchup, wincing a little at the overdone patty as he cast around for something to say. “So, you didn’t have a lot of time to set up the business side of things then?”

“Not really,” David said. “I had some money, but it was more expensive than I thought to fit out the shop and order the products to get started.”

Patrick nodded. “You really have to be prepared to survive a full year without profit,” he said, taking a bite of his burger. It wasn’t too bad, especially with plenty of ketchup. He’d have to remember that for next time.

“My sister said eighteen months,” David said sourly. “Two subjects at Elmdale College and she thinks she’s an expert.”

Patrick grinned. “So I’m guessing you’re not big on asking your family for help,” he said.

“Considering the only thing my sister has ever actually helped with was getting me out of Mongolia without my passport that one time, no, I wasn’t going to ask her for help,” David replied.

Patrick raised one eyebrow but didn’t comment. There was clearly a story there, but he didn’t want to probe. “What about your parents?”

David sighed dramatically. “Given what happened, I was hardly going to ask my dad, was I?” he said.

Patrick shook his head. “You’ve lost me,” he said. “What happened with your dad?”

David looked at him as though he was from another planet. “My dad is Johnny Rose.” Patrick shook his head. The name was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Was he famous? Shit, was _David_ famous and Patrick hadn’t recognised him?

“Our family owned Rose Video,” David said, the words formulaic, as though he’d told this story many times. “And then our business manager ran off with all our money, so we live in the motel of this town instead of one of the many properties we used to own.”

“Rose Video?” Patrick repeated. “Right, I heard about that.” He’d only really remembered because his first job had been at a Rose Video. They’d treated their staff well, from what he could remember. He swallowed, considering the rest of what David said. “Well, it sounds like it was your dad’s business manager that was more to blame.” He grinned, hoping to lighten the mood. “Are you sure you want me to help? I am a business guy, after all.”

David cocked his head, looking at Patrick for a long moment. “You’re nothing like Eli.”

“Eli was the business manager?” Patrick asked. He felt an irrational urge to punch the man who put such a distressed look on David’s face, which was ridiculous.

“Yes,” David said. He screwed up his nose. “He was…smooth. Always had an answer, you know? And always talking about how we needed to trust him, to rely on his judgement.” He barked a laugh, filling the short sound with more bitterness than Patrick expected to hear. “Not my dad’s best decision, in the end.”

Patrick nodded, not entirely sure how to react. David was clearly still stung by what happened, as much as by Eli’s actions as his dad’s trust in the man, but it wasn’t his place to comment.

“David,” Patrick said, choosing his words carefully, “I’m not going to comment on what happened before. I can tell you’re a bit reluctant to ask for help, and as much as I don’t want to sound like Eli, I am going to do the right thing for the store.” He took a deep breath. “But you should be able to trust whoever is going to help you. So if that’s not me, that’s okay. But it’s my,” he stumbled here for a second, “professional opinion you need someone to help you with the business side of your business.”

David stared at him. “You’re not going to try and convince me you should be that person?” he asked.

“Oh, I should be that person,” Patrick said, the words full of conviction and intensity he hadn’t realised were in him. David’s eyes widened at the change in tone. Patrick took a deep breath before he spoke again. “I am very good at my job, and I believe in your business.” He forced himself to shrug. “But it’s your business. Your decision. And you need to do what you feel comfortable with.”

Patrick looked down, carefully selecting a specific French fry so he could avoid David’s eyes for a second. Things had somehow gotten very intense as they talked, and it felt far more personal than an intro to small business type speech should get.

“Okay,” David said. “Well. I’m not entirely sure who else in this town I would ask, since you’re the first person I’ve spoken to who has used the word ‘inventory’ apart from my father, but I appreciate the sentiment.” For all the nonchalance in his words, David’s eyes made it clear he actually did appreciate the sentiment.

Patrick cleared his throat. “No problem,” he managed.

“So, tell me a horrific story from your past,” David said with an overly bright grin. “Just to even things up.”

Patrick tensed, then forced himself to relax. David was obviously trying to change the subject, which was fine. “Well, I grew up in Toronto,” he said. “A house in the suburbs, two brothers, little league in the summer and hockey in the winter.” He grinned at David’s expression of mild disgust. “Is that horrific enough for you?”

“Absolutely,” David said vehemently. “And what exactly brings you to Schitt’s Creek? Surely all that suburban white collar goodness wasn’t too much for you?”

Patrick shrugged, feeling his defences rising at the question. David hadn’t meant to pry, he told himself. Be truthful but vague.

“I needed a change,” he said. “Finished my degree, then my Masters, but working in the ‘burbs,” he shrugged again. “Wasn’t exactly what I was looking for, you know?”

David nodded. “I loved living in New York,” he said, and there was regret audible around the edge of his nostalgia. “But this place has grown on me.”

“Even without a Starbucks?” Patrick teased.

“Twyla took some training,” David confided, leaning in. “But she knows what I order now, and it’s a lot more palatable than it used to be.”

“Such high standards,” Patrick said with a grin.

“I’ll have you know I have very high standards,” David said. “I just know what’s worth fighting for.”

Patrick nodded, amused. The conversation drifted for a few more moments while they finished their burgers. Patrick insisted on paying; it was a business meeting, he told David, he could write the expense off.

“Well in that case it might always be your shout,” David said with a grin.

“Sure,” Patrick replied. They stood outside the store, awkward in the cool darkness. “Well, I’ll have a look into some of those grants I was telling you about, and I’ll bring the paperwork into the shop tomorrow morning.”

“Sure,” David said. He looked as though he was about to go, but instead he said, “Thanks, Patrick.”

“No problem,” Patrick replied. They stood together for another moment before the lights in the café abruptly went out. “I’d say that’s our cue,” Patrick said with a laugh.

“I think so,” David replied.

They both turned at the same time, Patrick heading out of town towards Ray’s place. No, towards home. He could feel his blood humming as he walked, barely seeing anything as he replayed the conversation. Well, not the conversation exactly; David’s words, David’s expressions, David’s reactions to his words and assumptions about stuff. When he got back to Ray’s – back _home_ , Patrick didn’t even bother heading upstairs. Instead he sat down at his desk, turning his computer on. It might be worth upgrading his chair, he thought, shifting to try and find a comfortable angle. From what it looked like, he might be staying here for a short while. For David. To help David. With his business.


	4. Chapter 4

Given how early it was, Patrick shouldn’t have been surprised Rose Apothecary was still closed. He had a vague idea of David coming in early to do restocking and things, but the lights were off and since the sign said they wouldn’t be open for another half hour or so, he headed over to the café instead. His breakfast was on roughly the same level as the previous evening, but he grinned at the rubbery eggs anyway. It was good to get an idea of what the food was like here. If he was going to be doing some work for David – how much was still under negotiation – he’d probably end up grabbing lunch or at least snacks over here. As he ordered a coffee to go, he remembered what David said about not being a morning person.

“Um, does the guy from over the road come and get coffee in the morning?” Patrick asked, hiking his backpack a little higher.

The barista glanced out the window at where Patrick was pointing. “David?” he asked. “Yes.”

“If you know what he orders can you make one please?” Patrick asked.

“His usual morning order?”

Patrick nodded, his eyebrows rising as the barista made a complicated and incredibly strong looking coffee and bagged up two muffins.

“Wow,” Patrick ventured, paying for their coffees.

“He’s not really a morning person,” the barista said brightly. Clearly he was, given how chipper he was as he smiled at Patrick. Twyla’s brother? Patrick wondered vaguely.

“Thanks,” Patrick said. He managed the coffees and muffins without a problem, making it across the road just as David stepped outside.

“Oh!” David said when he realised Patrick was standing in front of him. He blinked, as though waiting for his brain to catch up.

“Morning,” Patrick said.

“Yes,” David replied.

The pause was awkward, and Patrick had the strange feeling David might have forgotten they’d agreed to meet this morning. “Um, I got you a coffee?” Patrick said, raising the takeaway cups.

“Coffee?” David repeated. His eyes lit up before becoming guarded again. “Can I ask what kind because I’m quite selective about what I put into my body.”

Patrick swallowed, ignoring the alternative meaning his mind offered. “Um, the barista said it was a…” he hesitated, then recited, “macchiato, skimmed, two sweeteners, cocoa powder.”

“Wow,” David said.

“And he put like, four shots of coffee in it,” Patrick added. “Your morning special, I think he called it.”

David reached out, taking the coffee and staring at it. He glanced at Patrick before sipping it as carefully as if it might be poisoned. As he swallowed, his shoulders relaxed and he looked at Patrick again. “Thank you,” he said.

Patrick shrugged, grinning as David turned back into the store. “He said you’re not really a morning person,” he said, placing the muffins on the counter.

“I’m really not,” David replied. He waved an arm around the store. “If it wasn’t for the store I wouldn’t be up until at least ten AM.”

Patrick grinned. “I’m impressed you open so early, then,” he said.

“My dad said regular hours are important for building customer confidence,” David replied, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

Patrick’s eyebrows rose, ignoring the proof that David did in fact listen to his father, at least in some respects. “He’s right,” Patrick said. “Well if I end up working here, I won’t mind doing mornings. I’m usually up early.”

David took a sip, glancing away, but not before Patrick saw the astonishment in his widened eyes. Did people not offer to help him out? Patrick swallowed, drinking from his own cup. Despite their conversation the previous night, Patrick really didn’t feel like he could ask something so personal quite yet, no matter how much he wanted to know.

“What are you drinking?” David asked.

“Coffee,” Patrick replied. “My one and only for the day, really. The caffeine keeps me awake if I drink it in the afternoon.”

David nodded. His watch beeped and he glanced at it. “I should open the store,” he said.

“Sure,” Patrick said stepping aside. He watched David move through an obviously familiar series of steps, turning on the register and lights. Patrick took a sip of his drink to cover his smile when David reached out to adjust a row of jars, checking the labels were aligned exactly. _Perfectionist._

The sign flipped over and the door unlocked, David turned back to Patrick. The relaxed, confident man who’d opened his own store was gone. Instead David was twisting his hands together, his voice rising at the end as though he wasn’t sure what he was offering.

“Should I show you where I keep the business stuff?” he asked.

Patrick nodded. There were layers here, he thought as he stepped aside so David could show him through to a small office in the back. It was the same thing he’d noticed in the bar, and again last night. Talking about the store – the products and atmosphere he wanted to build – David was confident, but mention his family or the business side of things and he curled in on himself, uncertain and vulnerable. Patrick was still convincing himself it wasn’t very professional to wonder how he might be able to see what was under those layers when he saw the state of the office.

“What?” David said, his arms crossed over himself as Patrick glanced around. “Everything’s here.”

“I can see that,” Patrick replied, sliding his backpack off and setting it on the floor. He glanced at David. “I’m sorry, I assumed it would be a disaster.” He waved one arm around the tiny, perfectly organised space. Shelves bore folders, a filing cabinet stood beside the small desk, and not a single pile of random papers awaited him. “This is…a great start.”

David winced. “It looks organised,” he said, “but I got so busy I couldn’t...” He pulled open a drawer of the filing cabinet. As though making his point, a piece of paper fluttered out of the disarray within, betraying the true nature of the office.

“Oh,” Patrick breathed, glancing at David to check his reaction. The drawer was neatly labelled, but inside was a chaotic collection of papers. “So this is…invoices?”

David nodded. “Invoices, orders, details about vendors, tax stuff,” he listed, tapping drawer labels. “Oh, and the paperwork about the business licence, well, everything from the town council, is up here.” He turned to Patrick, arms drawn even tighter around his middle. “I’m sorry,” he whispered through pressed lips. “It’s a disaster. I wanted it to be neater but I just don’t have time, there’s no time, not with the store being open and having to go and see vendors and pick up stock…”

“Wait, you pick up the stock?” Patrick asked, distracted.

“Yes,” David said defensively. “How else would it get here?”

“Well,” Patrick said, aware his words would need to be carefully chosen, “usually it’s up to the vendor to get their product to you. Unless you’ve made another arrangement.”

“Oh,” David said. The best word Patrick could think of to describe his expression was _crestfallen_. “I just assumed…I mean, I want them to sell their things here, so I offered…” he trailed off, face miserable.

Before Patrick could open his mouth to reassure him, the bell over the front door tinkled. David jumped, then glanced out. “I should go and see…” he waved one arm, already moving though his face was uncertain.

“Of course,” Patrick said. He stepped to the side, allowing David past. David’s voice drifted back as he spoke to the customer and Patrick shifted, listening to him. He was polite, though Patrick could tell it was a customer service voice. But he could hear David’s enthusiasm warm up as he started talking about the benefits of whatever product they were looking at. When the sale was complete, Patrick eased out of the office, smiling as David turned from the register to face him.

“Well?” he asked apprehensively.

“I’ll need a little more time than I first thought,” Patrick said, hoping he was sounding tactful. “But I’m not in a hurry,” he said. “I think it might be a case of sorting your papers first.” That reminded him, and he cursed in his head. “Oh! I found some of those grants we were talking about. We can talk them over later, if you like? I’ve filled in some of the details, but you’ll need to do the rest and I can send them off.”

“You found grants already?” David asked, blinking. “When did you do that?”

Patrick shrugged. “I was up late,” he said, neglecting to explain what exactly made it difficult to sleep. “When you know where to look it doesn’t take long.”

David blinked at him. “Thank you,” he said finally, disbelief dripping from his voice. “Do…do you need anything else? Are you going now?”

“I can stay for a few hours,” Patrick said with a smile. “I’ll just go on with it.” He waved one hand at the store. “Leave the aesthetic decisions to you.”

“Obviously,” David said. He hesitated before adding, “Thank you.”

Patrick grinned before he headed back inside, something warm settling in his chest. He could hear David moving around in the store. The bell rang again, heralding the entrance of another customer. With a smile to himself, Patrick started sorting invoices.

+++

“Patrick?”

He looked up, taking a second to focus. David was standing in the doorway, arms wrapped around himself again. He could be so defensive, Patrick thought, his chest pulling in empathy. Vulnerable when he talked about business, or his family. Or maybe when he showed how uncertain he was, Patrick realised. He felt his jaw drop a little. That would explain why David didn’t want Ray to overhear their conversation. And why Patrick thought he was surprised to hear Patrick was a ‘business guy’ in the bar. Maybe it wasn’t surprise. Maybe it was more akin to relief, that someone he didn’t know might have the skills to help him.

_The business guy._

Patrick’s heart heaved as he recognised the trust David had placed in him.

“Patrick?” David asked again.

“Yeah, sorry,” Patrick said, looking up at David. He was leaning against the doorframe, managing to appear anxious even as he tried for a smile. “I’ve got into a rhythm here.” He waved one hand around, then followed his hand with his eyes. “Okay, it doesn’t look too different out here.”

Stretching over, he pulled open the first drawer of the filing cabinet. Instead of the chaotic pile that had greeted him earlier, a set of neatly arranged files hung ready to be accessed. He heard David gasp and held in a smile as he repeated the process with the next two drawers.

“The tax stuff will take longer,” Patrick said, indicating the drawer he was currently working through. “We’ll probably have to sit down and talk about some of the strategies you could put in place. But I can set up a program that’s easy to use and does a lot of this for you.”

He wanted to add that for a business this labour intensive David really did need someone helping him out, whether it was on the floor or doing basic bookkeeping, but it didn’t feel like his place. It wasn’t his business, in a very literal sense. Even if he was the business guy.

When Patrick finally looked up, David’s expressive face did not disappoint. His mouth hung open, eyes skittering from drawers to Patrick to the piles of papers accumulating on the desk. To Patrick’s fascination, David’s eyebrows rose and fell. He wondered if that was a reflection of what was going on in his head. A powerful urge to ask _what are you thinking_ struck but Patrick quashed it. Definitely not his business.

“Okay,” David whispered, swallowing hard. “When do you…I mean,” he shook himself and started again, eyes focussing firmly on Patrick. “I came in to offer you lunch,” he said, his smile a little fixed. “The tuna melt is moderately edible, if you want to risk eating café food again.”

Patrick grinned. “I could do with a break,” he said. He glanced at his watch. “I should probably get back to Ray’s in an hour or so, but I can come back tomorrow morning with that paperwork and get started setting up your computer.”

“Right,” David said slowly, his smile fading. “Actually, the thing is, I don’t really have access to a computer right now?”

“You don’t have a computer?” Patrick repeated. “How have you been keeping track of all this?”

David looked as guilty as a small child caught with chocolate on his face. “There’s a computer at the motel?” he said uncertainly. The wince was familiar; it was the same expression Patrick had seen when he first saw the office. At the time he’d thought it was David being funny, but now as he considered it, he wondered if David was bracing for some kind of blowback.

“Okay,” Patrick said calmly. His mind was racing, but again, he knew it would be important to choose his words carefully. “Well, it might be better if you have a computer here. I mean, I’ll need to set you up on some programs and it will be easier to work here, during business hours.”

_Easier for me to work here. If I was working here…_

By the time Patrick finished speaking, David was broadcasting his anxiety in every tense line of his shoulders and pressed together lips. He nodded tightly, but his eyes were panicked and Patrick has the distinct impression he was literally holding himself together, fingers digging into his ribs.

_I wonder why he wears those rings._

_Concentrate._

“David,” Patrick said, “are you okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” David replied, without opening his mouth.

Patrick studied him. He thought without speaking. “You can’t afford a computer, can you?”

David shook his head once, eyes pinned on Patrick. He shrank as Patrick watched. _Jesus_ , Patrick thought. What had happened before to make David react like this? Something or someone had treated him so poorly he expected it now, when he was most vulnerable. A shot of anger, white hot and visceral, powered through Patrick at the idea of someone treating David like that. Patrick clenched his fist, willing the anger toward that person not to show and frighten David. Whatever had happened in the past, Patrick promised himself he would be patient and understanding. He would show David people weren’t all like that.

_I’m not like that._

“David,” Patrick said, keeping his voice quiet, “I’m going to stand up, okay?” He waited a beat before looking up to judge how David had responded to his words.

Wary eyes met his, but David was nodding. It eased Patrick’s heart, though he was well aware David was extending even more trust right now. Taking his time, Patrick stood up. He watched David carefully as he stepped forward until he was close enough to reach out and touch. It was good that the door was behind David. Instinct told him David would not do well if he felt trapped.

“David,” Patrick said, holding his eyes, “I’m here to help you.” David nodded, so Patrick continued, keeping his voice calm and low. “I’m not going to judge the way you’re running your business. You’ve done a huge amount of work here, getting this store up and running. It’s an amazing achievement.”

David nodded, but a frown creased his brow.

“What?” Patrick asked. David didn’t say anything, so Patrick added, “You don’t have to trust me, but you can. With whatever you need.” In his head, Patrick had been talking about the business, but out loud he realised there was an alternative meaning. Tempting though it was to explain, he clenched his jaw, willing himself to remain silent. This was one of the things he could offer David, he told himself. Space to think and speak when he was ready, without pressure or expectation.

“My father set up a business,” David said reluctantly. “It’s not that big a deal, getting something new off the ground.” He didn’t sound convinced, and Patrick surmised it was something other people had said at some point.

“I haven’t met your Dad,” Patrick said, keeping his words as neutral as he could, “but I get the impression he’s more of business guy, is that right?”

David nodded once.

Patrick pointed out into the store. “Could he design that?”

David glanced over his shoulder, frowning until he realised what Patrick meant. To his surprise, David flushed. “Um, no,” David admitted without meeting Patrick’s eyes properly.

“So your strength is building relationships and aesthetics,” Patrick said. “And his is business.” He smiled, hoping he wasn’t taking too much of a risk on their very new relationship. “I don’t think _you_ can teach _that_ ,” he pointed out into the store again, “but _I_ can teach _you_ business.”

David blinked. “You can?” he said.

“Yep,” Patrick said, allowing his smile to broaden in to a grin. “Or, you can hire someone to do the business.” He pointed out into the store again. “That it all you, though.”

The last comment was a little reckless, but Patrick could feel David soaking up his positive words. He was shifting his weight, arms crossing and uncrossing, but Patrick could see the disbelief on his face warring with something that tentatively might be acceptance. It was as though he wasn’t used to anyone telling him he was capable, Patrick thought again, his own disbelief sharp. Or conversely, that it was okay to find something difficult. All the things Patrick was so used to hearing from his parents, his teachers, even his friends…and Rachel.

_You’re good enough._

_You can do it._

_I can help you._

_I want to help you._

_It’s okay to need help._

Patrick was still working through a bunch of new ideas in his head when David spoke. He packed it away to deal with later. This was about David and David’s business. Not Patrick, and certainly not the history he brought here with him.

David swallowed. “I still don’t have a computer,” he whispered. The words were raw, and the closest thing to an admission of vulnerability Patrick had heard him say.

_I want to help you._

“I do,” Patrick replied easily. “I already have the software set up, and I can teach you to use it.”

David’s mouth dropped open as he studied Patrick’s face. The frown was back, and Patrick half thought he was going to say something. Instead he looked confused again, even as he breathed, “Okay. O-okay.”

Patrick nodded, and the moment stretched like soft taffy as their eyes met in something bigger than a business agreement. Surely it wasn’t just him, realising this was unusual? Almost every conversation had turned incredibly personal, no matter where they started. Yet rather than running or avoiding it, Patrick could feel them both leaning into the strange dynamic as it slowly coalesced around them.

_This is not me being just the business guy._

_I need to clear my head._

“Lunch?” David asked finally.

“Sure,” Patrick replied. Who was he kidding, he wasn’t going to step back from this now. “I can watch the store while you go.”

“I always close up,” David said.

“Consistent hours,” Patrick replied with a hesitant grin.

“Exactly,” David said, his posture more open than it had been since he arrived. “But I eat here. There’s always something to do.”

David left to collect lunch, and Patrick found the office chair again. He sat, the smile still on his face as he considered things. He’d offered his laptop to David to help straighten out things. That kind of meant that he was in this, didn’t it? Not to mention the astonishing amount of personal discussion they’d managed in what, two days? And much as he hated to admit it, Patrick felt far more able to read David than he ever had with Rachel. Why was that?

Rachel’s voice came back to him, and with a pang of guilt Patrick realised he hadn’t thought of her – or their last big conversation – in almost two days.

_Why was that?_

Patrick spun on the chair, absently stacking up the tax documents he’d started organising. He didn’t really want to think about what was going on with David in the context of what happened with Rachel, but after today’s conversation – and the one the previous night – he might not have a choice.

“Lunch is here,” David’s voice came breaking into him.

“Thanks,” Patrick murmured absently.

“What were you thinking about?” David asked. Patrick looked up to catch David in the middle of a wince. “Oh my God, you don’t have to answer that.”

Patrick didn’t speak, taking his lunch from David and shifting over to allow David some space at the desk. David frowned. He disappeared then returned with one of the hand-crafted chairs for sale in the store.

“Might need another chair in here,” he murmured.

Patrick didn’t comment; his heart was thumping as he considered answering David’s original question. David had been incredibly honest with him. Vulnerable in a way Patrick felt privileged to witness, and that doubtless helped build their trust. This felt like his opportunity to do the same. He opened his mouth and the words that escaped felt like someone else’s.

“You asked what I was thinking about.”

Patrick was looking at his lunch, but he was concentrating on David. When his body stilled in response to Patrick’s words, Patrick swallowed. Would David follow the conversation he’d started? Did he even want to? Was Patrick actually just the overly perceptive business guy after all, or was the whisper of potential for something more real?

“I did,” David said carefully. “Do you…did you want tell me about it?”

The answer was ‘no’, but Patrick knew it was his fear talking. “Yes,” he whispered in defiance of himself.

Thankfully David didn’t push, and Patrick was able to try and make some kind of sense of his thoughts.

“I was engaged,” he said. “When I lived in Toronto.”

“Okay,” David said, clearly not understanding why Patrick was telling him this.

A bite of his lunch was a mistake; it was like glue in his mouth and Patrick closed his eyes as he swallowed it. He’d started this and he couldn’t leave it here.

“She and I were high school sweethearts,” Patrick said, his eyes still on his lunch. It was far easier addressing the congealing mess of his lunch than David, though he could feel David’s quiet, still presence as he spoke. “Everyone expected us to just…be together. And it was fine.” He swallowed. “It wasn’t always fine. We were on and off, but we always came back together. Except…” he trailed off, taking a deep breath.

“You don’t have to tell me this,” David said quietly. “I mean, thank you for trusting me, but don’t feel like you have to.”

“I know,” Patrick said. He felt his face pull into a frown, lips pressing tight. He cleared his throat. “I want to.” He continued. “The last time, she wanted to meet me at a bar. Somewhere we don’t usually go. I didn’t really know why until she started talking.”

He took a deep breath. This was the hardest bit.

“She told me she’d met someone while we’d been…off. And she’d realised she was gay.”

“Oh,” David breathed.

Patrick took a few deep, long breaths to get himself under control. Now that was out, the rest was a little easier. “She apologised to me, but she didn’t want to lead me on. I decided I needed some space, so I left.”

“And came to Schitt’s Creek,” David said.

“And came to Schitt’s Creek,” Patrick echoed, agreeing. He felt a flash of guilt – he had left out some of what Rachel said, after all – but he wasn’t ready to share that yet. He was hardly ready to process it himself, let alone share it with someone who…with David. He had to work out why their conversations were affecting him so much, but that needed a good solid hike, something to press everything else out of his head until only the clean truth remained. The isolation of the peak always felt like a safe place and Patrick was suddenly desperate to get out there again.

_Maybe tomorrow._

“So, that’s what I was thinking about,” Patrick said, hoping his voice would sound lighter. He could feel David watching him, and it felt strange, to have someone checking that he was okay. Probably not stranger than knowing that was what the look meant, Patrick told himself. But he knew it was.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” David said. “Are you…are you okay?”

_I knew it._

“I don’t know yet,” Patrick said truthfully. “It’s a big change. A lot to think about.”

“Well if you want to talk, or compare break up stories, my friend Stevie and I have some that will make you grateful she bothered to tell you it was over,” David said.

“What?” Patrick asked, disconcerted.

“Yeah,” David said. He shook his head. “Easterly was not the nicest, as it turned out.”

Patrick had no idea if that was a person or not, but he smiled at the earnest tone in David’s voice. “Thank you, David,” he said quietly.

David smiled. “I hope you don’t plan on eating that,” he said, pointing to the sludge that was Patrick’s meal. “It’s only barely edible when it’s hot.”

“Yeah,” Patrick said with a sigh. Good thing he wasn’t really hungry now. He glanced at his watch. “I really should get home and do some work for Ray this afternoon.”

“Oh, of course,” David said. He picked up the remains of Patrick’s lunch along with his own. “Might just bin this anyway.”

Patrick followed David out, feeling both lighter for sharing and guilty for omitting the most important part of his conversation with Rachel. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Patrick said. “I’ll bring the paperwork for the grants and my laptop and I’ll get started setting you up with some software.” He tilted his head. “There are a couple of bookkeeping ones. Do you want to choose, or…”

“You choose,” David said hastily. “Whatever you think will be fine.”

Patrick grinned. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” David replied with a smile.

Patrick swallowed. Definitely need a hike, he told himself. Maybe he could help Ray then head off before the daylight faded.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! As you can see I've been working hard on this and the story's unfolding beautifully. If you've read other multi-chapter works by me you'll know I can be quite impatient, which works in your favour as I'm going to drop several chapters today! I hope you enjoy them!  
> Stay safe, be kind,  
> love Blue

The hike did him the world of good. Patrick slept fairly well, though it might have been the manic pace he’d set himself heading uphill, working his body as hard as he could until all he could think about was how much his lungs burned and where to put his feet on the uneven trail. Sitting at the top was restorative, and he’d been able to make some clear statements in his head about himself and David and what might be happening there. Nothing too solid, and obviously it was only Patrick’s perspective, but it helped it feel a lot less messy in his head and that in itself was confidence building.

Patrick swung past the café again before arriving at the store, smiling as the same man made their coffees and grabbed David’s muffins along with one for Patrick. Two mornings wasn’t a pattern, but it was a start, he thought as he juggled everything through the café door, making sure he didn’t jam his laptop. And if he went tomorrow as well…Well. No point thinking too far into the future. Patrick snorted gently at himself. Wasn’t that what he was already doing with David? Thinking about the future, a ridiculous distance into the future considering they didn’t even have a formal business relationship, let alone anything else.

As Patrick glanced both ways before crossing the street, a flutter of nerves skittered through his belly. He and David hadn’t talked since yesterday, and given how much he’d analysed their conversation, it was entirely possible David had done the same. And who knew where he might have ended up. Wondering if Patrick wanted more than a professional relationship? Offended by that? Worried it would affect the store? Heck, Patrick didn’t even know if David was gay, or straight, or anything else. Not that it mattered, he told himself, stepping up the curb. That was the attitude he’d always held. Except that this time, it actually did.

“Good morning,” Patrick said when David opened the door to him, several minutes before opening time.

“Good morning,” David replied. He took the coffees carefully, allowing Patrick to grab at his laptop bag before it slipped off his shoulder. “Coffee again?”

“Yep,” Patrick said.

“You don’t have to do that,” David said, and the defensive tone was there again. As though Patrick wanted to use the favour for leverage or something.

_Small steps._

Patrick shrugged. “If I get you a coffee, I can get myself a coffee.” He grinned, waving the bag. “And a muffin.”

“Ah,” David said, his shoulders lowering a little. “Well, if it’s about muffins, I understand.”

They shared another of the smiles Patrick had replayed over and over all night. It stretched out a little, until Patrick forced himself to blink.

“I brought that paperwork,” he murmured. “I’ll let you fill in as much as you can first.”

“Thank you,” David replied. He drank from his coffee and Patrick found himself holding his breath, watching David’s expression as he tasted it.

“Is it right?” Patrick asked.

David looked surprised, but replied, “Yes.”

“He’s good, to remember what you order,” Patrick said.

David raised one eyebrow. “Getting it right is fairly new,” he said. “It took quite a while for Twyla to teach the rest of them to make it properly.”

“From your expression I’m guessing it was fairly bad,” Patrick ventured.

David shuddered. “I would have been ecstatic with ‘fairly bad’”, he said. “In the early days it was more ‘dishwater’ than ‘coffee’.”

Patrick screwed up his nose, and their eyes met again, amusement softening everything again.

Before he could speak, David’s watch beeped.

“Time to get to work,” he murmured.

Patrick nodded, taking his muffin and coffee and heading out to the back. The office was a little bit familiar, but he had the same sense as in the café. Twice did not make a pattern, but there was the potential for it to become so. The thought warmed him almost as much as the coffee.

Pulling the paperwork from his laptop bag, Patrick set it aside. He didn’t want to interrupt David as he opened the store, and it wasn’t urgent. The next couple of hours he spent sorting out the store’s tax documents, filling in all the information he could so things were easier for David. He ignored the way his mind had phrased that particular goal. Of course he was aiming to make things easier for David; that was literally his job here. It had nothing to do with how he felt personally about the man.

“David,” Patrick murmured, knowing he couldn’t be heard from here. He stretched, feeling his body relax as he sat up straight. He’d reached a dead end until David could fill in some of the blanks.

Stepping out of the back room, Patrick glanced around the store. There was one customer standing on the far side of the room, staring at the candle display, but David was nowhere to be seen. He hesitated; he didn’t know anything about the candles except what David told him that first day, and he was quite busy being overwhelmed during that tour. And yet wherever David was, he was going to lose this customer.

“Hi, can I help you find something?” Patrick asked with a smile, hoping the answer was ‘no’. With any luck he could keep the woman talking until David returned and took over.

“I’m looking for a candle,” she said, turning to face Patrick.

“Well you’ve come to the right place,” Patrick said. Nodding at the display, he ventured, “Did you find anything you like in particular?”

“I like this one,” she said pulling down a candle and bringing it to her nose before showing Patrick.

He turned his head sideways to see the label, relieved to see it was a scent he remembered David talking to him about.

_Lavender and vanilla._

“Oh, this is a good choice,” he said, nodding as though he knew what he was talking about. “All the products are made locally, and most of the ingredients are local, too.”

“Most?” the woman said, frowning.

“Well, vanilla doesn’t grow well in Canada,” Patrick said. “It’s tropical, really. But the lavender is grown the same farm that produces the honey we sell here.” He indicated the small pots behind her. “And she makes honey scented candles, too.”

The woman’s eyes lit up. “Honey is perfect,” she said, picking up a candle and a pot of honey. She looked at Patrick expectantly. Before he could panic too badly, David appeared. He glanced over once, but his double take was classic.

“David will ring that up for you,” Patrick said, giving David a significant look.

“Of course,” David said. His customer service smile appeared immediately, but he shot Patrick a questioning glance as he followed the woman over to the register. Patrick hung out behind them, awkwardly straightening the already straight lines of the candles before the woman took her bag and left.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted as soon as the woman was gone and David’s eyes landed on him, still questioning. “I just came out to ask you something, and she was here and you weren’t and I didn’t want to let the sale go.”

David nodded, waiting until Patrick had finished before he spoke. “Thank you,” he said deliberately, a smile dancing over his mouth. “She said she came in for a candle, but you upsold her on the honey too.”

Patrick shrugged, realising David was actually impressed. “I just told her what you told me,” he said. “About the farm and the bees. And stuff.”

“Well, it worked,” David said. He winced. “There really is no good time to duck to the bathroom real quick.”

“No,” Patrick said, “but if you show me how to use the register you might be able to ask me to help out if you do need a break for something.”

David nodded. Patrick wondered if he would say anything else about it, but instead he said, “What did you need?”

Patrick blinked, more than a little lost in David’s eyes. “What?” he asked.

“You said you came out here to ask me something,” David repeated.

“Right,” Patrick said. “I need some banking details to set up your tax program.”

“Sure,” David replied, his face growing more serious. “Let me just find that for you.”

“I mean if it’s in the office, I can find it,” Patrick said. “I just didn’t want to go looking without asking you.”

“Oh, well that’s very considerate, Patrick,” David said. He was amused, maybe, but less surprised than Patrick would have thought. “But given you’re setting up a tax program, I think you have permission to go through whatever is in there.”

“It’s still your business,” Patrick murmured, following David to the office. He dug into the last messy drawer, pulling out papers, frowning and muttering to himself while Patrick leaned against the doorframe, one eye on the store. It only took a few moments before David turned around.

“This should be everything,” David said with half a smile. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks,” Patrick replied, taking the papers. It wasn’t until David stepped past back to the store Patrick realised why he was uncomfortable. Was he disappointed? He frowned. What was it? David passed him the papers, his fingers on one end of the paper, Patrick’s on the other…

They hadn’t touched. That was it.

Which was a strange thing to be upset about, really. Patrick took a seat, half his brain sorting the papers David had found, the other half mulling over his reaction. When he’d entered the wrong numbers three times, he shook himself. This was working time, and he had to concentrate. Trying to figure out his reactions to David wasn’t really a part-time thing, and he’d have to leave it until this evening.

Maybe he needed another hike already.

+++

The next time Patrick looked up, it was almost lunch time. Almost time to go, he thought with a pang. But he’d made good progress, and this was a convenient time to stop. He couldn’t do a lot more without asking how David felt about a few different options anyway. Patrick swallowed. He knew he was offering David options that would effectively put him out of work; wasn’t that the point? Helping David to either do the work himself, or hire someone with less qualifications – and a lower hourly rate – to do the paperwork.

_The business guy, remember? That’s what you’re here for._

Patrick shook his head. His certainty about that was becoming less and less clear, but unless David did or said something, he had to hold onto it. The alternative was scary in a way he wasn’t ready to deal with. Not on his own.

_Not without David._

_Stop it._

“Hey,” David said when Patrick appeared near the register. His eyes flittered across Patrick’s laptop bag, registering the clear sign Patrick was heading out. Patrick fancied he saw disappointment but told himself it was in his head.

“Hey,” Patrick said, but he had to wait for David to finish serving the woman who had some questions about skincare. It was no hardship to watch David work; the woman listened, enraptured as he spoke about skin types and the products that would suit her best. Patrick felt his eyebrows rise as she touched his arm, her flirting visible even to Patrick who generally considered himself clueless when it came to that kind of thing.

When David had rung her up – for quite a few things, he noticed – she pulled something extra from her purse and pressed it into his hand, her fingers lingering a little too long before she turned and took her bag. Patrick’s eyes stayed on David so he saw the smile slide from his face the second the woman was gone before he met Patrick’s eyes. His lips were pressed together, and colour was rising in his face.

“Did she just slip you her number?” Patrick asked, almost laughing at the panic on David’s face.

“Um, she’s a massage therapist,” David said, holding the business card by a single corner. “And apparently I have tight shoulders.”

Patrick snorted, making a show of looking at David’s shoulders. He wanted to run his hands across them to find out for himself, but he was fairly sure that crossed even their admittedly blurry professional boundary, so he kept his hands to himself instead.

“I can see what she means,” Patrick said seriously, managing to keep his face clear until he’d finished speaking, but it was a close thing. “So are you going to call her?”

David scowled, then to Patrick’s surprise, strode over and locked the door, turning the sign over. When he turned back, Patrick was waiting. David obviously wanted to have some kind of conversation without being interrupted.

“I’m not used to people thinking I’m straight,” David said, and the declaration was so surprising Patrick felt his jaw slacken. He waited, assuming there was more David needed to say. Instead of more awkward admissions, David sighed, closing his eyes. “I used to use this analogy, but I’ve grown out of it, I think.” He opened his eyes and looked at Patrick, clear and level. “I’m pansexual. I’m attracted to the person, regardless of their gender.”

“Okay,” Patrick said. He knew what pansexual meant, but he had the impression David was waiting for him to ask before moving on. “So, you might actually be interested in a date with,” he picked up the card from the bench, “Serenity?”

“Ew, no,” David said, screwing up his nose. “I mean, yes, I have dated women in the past if that’s what you’re asking.”

Patrick shrugged. “I’m not asking anything,” he said. “You’re the one that locked the door so we could have this conversation.”

David stared. “So you don’t have any questions?” he said.

“Nope,” Patrick said. “I mean, thank you for telling me.”

“But otherwise…” David said.

“Otherwise, we’re good,” Patrick said with a smile. He was camouflaging his racing heart, certainly, but David’s comfort ranked a lot higher than anything Patrick might want to know. And the last thing Patrick wanted to do was continue what was clearly a run of awkward and probably invasive conversations about David’s sexuality in the immediate aftermath of his coming out.

“Right,” David said uncertainly. There was a pause before he waved one hand awkwardly at Patrick. “So you’re heading home, then?”

Patrick glanced down at his laptop. “I am, yeah,” he said. “I actually do want to talk to you about some things, though.” He hesitated. “Do you…I mean, we could meet for dinner tonight, or after dinner if you want?”

“But Patrick, it’s Friday night,” David said dryly. “Don’t you have big plans?”

“In Schitt’s Creek?” Patrick repeated. “Surprisingly not.”

“And what if I have big plans?” David asked.

Patrick raised one eyebrow. “Another glass of Esmerelda’s red at the bar?” he asked.

“Rude,” David said, though his tone was mild. “As it happens, my plans tonight are more or less like every night.”

Patrick raised one eyebrow. “And that would be?”

“I plan on popping a pill, crying a little, and going to sleep early,” David said. His tone was light, but Patrick could tell he wasn’t entirely kidding. So not an every night thing, but it wasn’t completely made up, either. Interesting. Also a little heart breaking, but Patrick wasn’t one to judge.

“Well I’d hate to interrupt such a program,” Patrick said. An idea came to him and he said, “We could do a breakfast meeting instead. I’m thinking six, six-thirty?”

David gasped, eyes wide. “Patrick!”

He grinned, loving the reaction his words had elicited. “So what time tonight, then?” he asked.

David, recognising the bait, grinned in return. “If it’s a business meeting we can write it off, right?” he said. When Patrick nodded, David said, “Great. Pick me up at seven and we’ll drive to Elmdale. They have a semi-decent Italian restaurant, and I can’t face another night of food at the café right now.”

Patrick’s heart definitely did something unusual, but he ignored it. “Sure,” he managed. “I’ll see you then.”

They stared at each other for a beat longer than usual, David’s eyes soft enough it made Patrick’s breath catch in his throat. He wanted to say something but his courage failed him again and he walked out instead. Making it around the corner, Patrick shook his head, berating himself. If it was almost anyone else, he’d think they’d just organised a date. _Pick me up at seven. The Italian place the next town over._

_But it’s a business meeting._

_But David’s pan. And he smiles at me like…_

_But he doesn’t know…_

_Shit._

This was messier than he thought it could possibly get. Patrick ground his teeth the whole way home, not realising until he’d arrived that his car was still in town. He’d have to walk back this evening so he could drive to pick David up. Served him right, not thinking about where he was going. If he was going to get anything done this afternoon he’d have to concentrate.

Right after his hike.


	6. Chapter 6

Patrick was irritated. He’d had the same blazer for ages, and it had always fit. So why was he still fiddling with it, as he waited for someone to come to the motel reception? It wasn’t even as though David hadn’t seen this blazer. It was the same one Patrick had been wearing the night they met, and although he wouldn’t admit it to himself, he would have worn something else if he’d had the option.

“Hi, can I help you,” a voice intoned from behind him.

Patrick turned in time to see the supremely uninterested expression morph into one almost delighted to see him. “Hi,” he said. “I’m looking for David Rose. I’m not sure which room is his.”

“You must be Patrick,” the woman said, openly assessing him. “Nice jacket.”

“Thanks,” Patrick replied. “Yep, I’m the business guy.”

“David’s business guy,” she said with a grin.

“He said that?” Patrick asked her.

“Not in so many words,” she told him, and opened her mouth to continue, but the door behind her opened and David burst into reception.

“Stevie, someone’s going to…oh. You’re here,” David said, blinking at Patrick.

“We did say seven, right?” Patrick said, glancing at his watch.

“Well yes,” David said, his eyes flicking from Patrick to the woman, “but people don’t generally show up at the time they agreed.”

Patrick’s eyebrows rose. That was news to him, but before he could comment, the woman spoke.

“I think we can agree Patrick has actual manners,” she said with an insincere smile at David. “Why don’t you go and finish getting ready. I’ll keep Patrick company.”

“That’s not necessary, Stevie,” David said immediately. “I’m ready,” he said to Patrick.

“So early?” Stevie said. “He’s ready for you even though he thought you’d be late. What could that possibly mean, Patrick?”

“Probably that he actually did expect me to be on time, since he knows I’m that kind of person,” Patrick retorted. He returned her delighted grin at his snark. “What interesting things does he knew about you, Stevie?”

“It’s not what he knows about me that should interest you,” Stevie said. “I like you, Patrick-the-business-guy.” She turned to David. “I like him.”

“Yes, that’s lovely for you,” David said, “but I am very uncomfortable with this social dynamic, so we should go.”

Patrick grinned at Stevie on his way out. “Nice to meet you, Stevie.”

“So much likewise,” Stevie told him.

“Eat glass,” David told her as Patrick passed.

“With pleasure,” Stevie replied.

Patrick unlocked his car, resisting the urge to open David’s door for him. That was definitely in the realm of a date far more than a business meeting.

“So Stevie’s interesting,” Patrick said, heading out of town towards Elmdale.

“She’s my only friend here,” David said. “I’d like to say she’s nicer than that, but she’s really not.”

Patrick nodded. “Is she a good friend?”

“I don’t have a lot of experience in that area,” David said, “but I think she is.”

“Well, that’s good,” Patrick replied. “I’m sorry I didn’t just come to your room but I didn’t know which room was yours.”

“Oh no, meeting Stevie is far more acceptable than you meeting my family,” David said. “But next time we’ll meet at the store.”

“They can’t be that bad,” Patrick said, chuckling.

“Oh they are,” David said. He glanced at Patrick. “Are you wearing the same jacket you did that night at the bar?”

“Yes,” Patrick said, easing the neck of it again under David’s scrutiny. “I didn’t know how nice this restaurant was.”

“Nothing around here warrants a tailored jacket,” David replied. “But it’s a good colour on you.”

“Thanks,” Patrick replied. “It’s my only blazer, so I don’t have a lot of choice.”

David nodded, and they lapsed into silence, the darkness surrounding them until they reached the edges of Elmdale. It was bigger than Schitt’s Creek, but not by much, and it was less than two minutes before they pulled into the last spot in the _Ciao Bella_ parking lot.

“Looks busy,” Patrick said.

“It’s the only vaguely edible place around here,” David said. “I haven’t been here in…” he trailed off as they approached the door. A notice proclaimed _Closed – Private Function_. “Oh,” David whispered.

Patrick could see him bracing himself as he turned, but before he could apologise, Patrick spoke. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. David’s face was sceptical. “Seriously David, it doesn’t matter. We can eat and talk anywhere. Remember the tuna melts in the office?”

David screwed up his face. “Ew,” he muttered.

“Yeah, but it worked,” Patrick said.

David sighed. “I just wanted to eat somewhere decent for once,” he muttered. The light wasn’t great but Patrick reckoned disappointment was written on his face as much as embarrassment. Patrick thought fast.

“Well, if you’re prepared to wait a bit, I can do that,” Patrick said.

“What?” David said.

Patrick grinned, not quite wanting to reveal his plan. “Trust me?” he said.

David blinked at him, considering the question more seriously than Patrick had anticipated. “Yes,” he said finally.

“Well, get back in the car and don’t ask questions,” Patrick said.

David frowned but complied. Patrick made him stay in the car when he stopped at the grocery store, electing paper bags to keep his purchases a mystery. David rolled his eyes, which only made Patrick grin even wider as they headed back to Schitt’s Creek.

“A microwaved meal is not an improvement on the café, you know,” David said.

Patrick felt his eyebrow twitch, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “I’ll note that, David,” he said.

“I mean, even I could heat a frozen pizza,” David continued. “It hardly counts as Italian.”

“Well it’s lucky I didn’t buy any frozen pizzas,” Patrick said. “I was tempted to buy some cheese, but I know you like that goat’s cheese the store has so I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if we stopped there on the way back in. Hate for you to get hungry before our meal’s ready.”

David opened his mouth, and out of the corner of his eye Patrick saw him turn to look. He was watching the road, but he could feel the astonishment rolling off David. “Sure,” David said finally. “We could do that.”

Patrick stopped right outside the store. There was no traffic of course, so it hardly mattered that he was technically blocking the road, and David was in and out in less than a minute, his arms full.

“That’s more than just cheese,” Patrick told him.

“Several kinds of cheese,” David said defensively, “and some wine. And those seeded crackers I’ve just started stocking.”

“Fair enough,” Patrick said. He didn’t say anything else until they’d made it back to his place. It was dark as he grabbed the grocery bags and David juggled the things he’d picked up at the store.

“No Ray?” David asked.

“Not tonight,” Patrick said, pushing the door open and flicking on the lights. “Some kind of conference tomorrow, and he wanted to be around for the breakfast buffet.”

“Oh, okay,” David replied. “Kitchen that way?”

“Yep,” Patrick said. “Why don’t you set up the cheeses and I’ll start on dinner?”

“You’re not going to insist I close my eyes?” David said dryly.

“Not this time,” Patrick said without thinking. When he saw David’s eyebrows rise he realised how that could have been interpreted and he winced. Turning on the oven allowed him to hide his face for a second, enough time to be more in control when he turned back. He could feel David’s eyes on him as he pulled things out of the grocery bags.

“It’s not the exact recipe,” Patrick said, “my mother’s is the best.”

He started pulling out cooking equipment, relieved he’d done enough lately to know where things were kept.

“How do you feel about chili?” Patrick asked. “I can leave it out if you’d prefer.”

“Some is okay,” David said, and he was a lot closer than Patrick had anticipated.

“Okay,” Patrick managed as David reached around him to pick up a package.

“You’re making pasta,” David said. “From scratch?”

“Almost from scratch,” Patrick replied. “I wasn’t sure what you would have ordered, but I’m making pasta with tomatoes and bacon, garlic bread and I bought a tiramisu.”

“You bought the tiramisu?” David repeated with a dramatic shake of his head.

“It’s locally made,” Patrick replied. “You could see if they wanted to stock some in your store, the cashier said they only supply to Elmdale right now.”

He glanced up from filling the pot of water for the pasta, intending to offer David a cheeky grin, but his expression gave Patrick reason to pause. He was thinking about something, his eyes narrowed a little as though he couldn’t quite work something out.

“What?” Patrick said. Had he crossed a line, asking the cashier about the tiramisu? Maybe David would rather he just stuck to the books and didn’t try to do anything with the front of the store.

“Turn it off,” David said suddenly.

“What?” Patrick replied, still stuck on the questions in his head.

“The tap,” David said, and he leaned in so fast Patrick pulled back instinctively, heart pounding. Patrick froze, looking down at where the water was beginning to dribble over the edge of the pot.

“Thanks,” Patrick whispered. He cleared his throat. “Thanks.” Some of the water had to go, but he glanced again at David, making sure he knew to get out of the way so Patrick could put the pot on the stove and get the water heating.

“Why did you ask about the tiramisu?” David asked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the bench.

Patrick had started lining up the ingredients for the pasta sauce, but he stopped to look over. “Should I not have?” he couldn’t help asking. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” David said. “I just…why did you ask?”

“I wanted something for dessert,” Patrick said. “I was thinking about Italian and it was the only thing I could think of.” He shrugged, still not entirely certain what David was asking. “I asked the shelf stacker, and he showed it to me.”

“And he told you it was locally made,” David asked. He was still frowning, and Patrick realised he was working his way around to asking something.

“He did,” Patrick said, mirroring David’s stance before he realised he was doing it. Undoing it would draw more attention, so he remained there. “Why don’t you just ask whatever it is you want to know, David.”

David blinked, meeting Patrick’s eyes. For a minute Patrick thought he might not; he was playing with his rings, a sure fire sign he was considering something.

“I don’t know why you thought about the store when you were buying food,” David blurted. “Why would you ask about it being in the store?”

It was Patrick’s turn to blink as he processed it. “If it was the wrong kind of product,” he began, drawing a breath to apologise, but David shook his head, unfolding his arms and leaning back on the heels of his hands.

“I don’t understand why you care enough to think about it,” David said. “It’s not your store, you’re just the business guy.” As the words rang between them Patrick watched David’s face fall. “Forget I said that,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

“I am the business guy,” Patrick said quietly. He waited for David to open his eyes and look back at him. “And to me, that is business. It’s part of what I’m here to do, help your business.” He shrugged. “I want to help your business grow, David, and I see the opportunity for that everywhere.” He picked up the small, hand-packed container he’d bought in the grocery store. “I guess if I’m being honest, you’re the only person I’ve really gotten to know here. So that’s part of it.” He gave a small smile. “Does that make sense?”

David nodded. “I’m not used to people being nice,” he said.

“In general or in your direction specifically?” Patrick asked, intending it to be amusing.

“Both,” David replied, and it reminded Patrick again just how far from his own experience David’s life had been.

“Well I’m glad to supply the nice in your life, if you’d like to have it,” Patrick said. It felt like he was offering more than just a business thing, especially as he was standing in his kitchen about to cook for David. Also especially since his heart was thumping hard as he awaited David’s response.

“I think I could get used to it,” David replied. “Especially if it comes with food.”

“The way to a man’s heart?” Patrick asked without thinking.

“Something like that,” David murmured. Their grins were tentative, and after a beat holding each other’s eyes David said, “So you’d better start cooking.”

Patrick raised his eyebrow and handed the tiramisu to David. “Into the fridge please,” he said. “You should eat some cheese. Dinner’s another…twenty minutes.”

“Twenty whole minutes?” David gasped. “I need to open the wine.”

“You should,” Patrick replied.

David found glasses while Patrick started on the pasta sauce. The scent of cooking onions and garlic soon filled the air, and Patrick added a decent amount of bacon before a couple of tins of tomatoes and turning it down to simmer while the pasta cooked. He wished there was fresh basil, but the semi-dried stuff he’d found at the grocery store would have to do.

The garlic bread in the oven, Patrick set a timer and turned to David. “Any cheese left?” he asked.

“Of course,” David replied. “I didn’t want to interrupt the mastery of your cooking.”

“Hardly,” Patrick said. “My mother’s the cook in our house. I just know enough not to starve.”

“Microwave pizza stops you starving and we’d be eating by now,” David said. He pushed the cheese plate close to Patrick.

“Ah, but you made it clear that was not an acceptable option,” Patrick said. “Hence the immense effort I have made to cook.”

“Well, thank you,” David said. “I am suitably impressed.”

Patrick grinned, taking a bite of goat’s cheese with the seeded crackers. “Wow, these are great together.”

“Right?” David said, his eyes sparking up. “I want to show people how to pair some of these things.” He held up his glass. “And the wine, too.”

“You could hold a tasting night,” Patrick said. “Charge people some nominal amount, serve small plates with a matched cheese and wine and crackers like this, or some of the other stuff you carry, like that relish-”

“Beetroot relish,” David supplied.

“Yeah,” Patrick said with a grin. “And if you offer people a deal to buy what’s on each plate, I think you’d see a lot of product walking out the door.”

David chewed thoughtfully. “That’s a good idea,” he said. His gaze, which had been lost in middle distance, sharpened to focus on Patrick. “Where did you get that idea?”

Patrick shrugged. “I’ve worked with a lot of small business,” he said. “I focused on it during my Masters, and whenever I see a small business doing something good, I tuck it away. In case it comes in handy.”

“So you have a bunch of ideas,” David said.

“I do,” Patrick replied. He hesitated, but his alarm went off. “Do you want to set the table?” he said over his shoulder, draining the pasta before returning it to the deep frying pan he was using. “There’s parmesan in the fridge too.”

“Oh I found the cheese,” David said.

“I’m learning that cheese is very important in your life,” Patrick said, serving the pasta. He did the fancy twirls his mom had taught him before tucking garlic bread around the edges of each bowl.

“Cheese and I have a special relationship,” David replied. He took his bowl from Patrick. “Don’t tell carbs I said that, it’s what I tell them too.”

Patrick grinned. “I’m understanding why you are so excited about Italian food,” he said. “And also realising Tiramisu was a good choice.”

“It was,” David replied. He’d waited for Patrick to sit before picking up his fork. “Thank you for cooking.”

“No problem,” Patrick said.

They ate in silence for a moment, if you could call David’s noises of approval silence, before he was able to stop long enough to say to Patrick, “So if this is a business meeting, I guess we should talk about business.”

“Isn’t that what we were doing?” Patrick asked.

“Specifically,” David said, “I wanted to ask if you would be interested in working with me for longer than it would take just to set up some bookkeeping programs.”

Patrick nodded slowly, ignoring his elevated heartrate. “What did you have in mind?” he asked.

“Six months?” David said tentatively. “Especially with the conversation we’ve had tonight, I realise I need some help. Not just for the books, which was what I was thinking when I first came to see you. But other business ideas, like the tasting night.” He swallowed and Patrick had the impression he hadn’t meant to say quite so much.

Patrick’s immediate response was to agree, but he knew this was important and he didn’t want to renege on anything later.

“Right now you’re not paying me,” he said. “And I know we had a verbal agreement that you would pay me when you were able to, but I think we’d need something in writing. Just so we both know where we are. What to expect.”

David was nodding before Patrick had finished speaking. “Absolutely,” he said. “If we’re going to work together for that longer period, we will need clear expectations.” He cleared his throat. “I think we’ve worked well so far, and I don’t want you to feel locked in. But if we can sign a contract for six months I think it would be a benefit for us both.”

Patrick grinned. “David Rose are you putting the vendor talk on me?”

David blinked. “Of course,” he said. “I’m very good at getting what I want.”

The grin was still on his face, but Patrick felt it grow at the comment. “Well, specifics aside, I’m in,” he said, raising his glass.  
“To the store,” David said.

“To the store,” Patrick replied. He sipped from his wine before saying, “Let’s talk tomorrow, but I will have to keep doing some other work for a bit. I won’t be able to be exclusively yours quite yet.”

It was awkward wording, but to Patrick’s astonishment David’s face betrayed disappointment before he wiped it away. “Of course,” he said. “And I’ll expect you to keep track of all the hours you’re working for the store. Including late nights looking up grants,” he added.

“You should sign those before you go,” Patrick said. “And I reserve the right to do extra hours. If I want.”

David’s eyebrows twitched, but he reigned them in. “Well, I reserve the right to bring you wine and cheese in payment,” he retorted.

“And I reserve the right to accidentally cook you dinner when you do,” Patrick said.

“I’ll continue to reserve my right to bring dessert,” David said. His eyes were sparkling, and Patrick could feel their rhythm growing as they became more comfortable in this dynamic.

“Okay well I’m not watching a thousand rom-coms with you,” Patrick said, making a call but knowing immediately it was right on.

“I’ll have you know I am an excellent compromiser,” David said, taking a huge bite of garlic bread.

“Okay, fine,” Patrick said. “Before we get too excited about planning another business meeting,” he hung a lot of sarcasm on those last two words, “we should start from the beginning with the store.” He levelled a look at David. “How do you feel about stocktake?”

“Stocktake?” David repeated.

“Yep,” Patrick replied. “We need to see exactly what you have. Partly so you can start tracking how your products sell so you can maximise the efficiency of your inventory, but also so we can make an accurate estimate of your worth in case you need a loan.”

David’s mouth had dropped open, and Patrick frowned. “Sorry, was that too much?” He thought about what he was trying to say. “We need to-”

“I know what stocktake is,” David said. “I was just…” he trailed off. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, cheeks pink. “When do you want to do this?”

“You’re closed Monday, right?” Patrick said. “It’s going to take all day, we might as well get started.”

David groaned. “You’re going to make me come in early, aren’t you?”

“Nope,” Patrick replied. “In fact, if you want to teach me about the products as we go, I could eventually do some mornings for you. If you’d trust me for a couple of hours in the store on my own.”

David stared as though Patrick had offered his firstborn. “If it means I get to sleep to a decent hour on a semi-regular basis, I’ll meet you on Monday at dawn,” he said with such fervour Patrick found himself laughing.

“You have a deal,” he said. “But let’s make it nine on Monday, shall we?”

“Sure,” David said. “Thank God,” he muttered.


	7. Chapter 7

“We have to move all the boxes?” David said in disbelief.

Patrick breathed deeply. “Not every single box,” he said again. “But we’ve already found one box that was mislabelled. And there’s no point in doing a stocktake if-”

“If it’s not accurate, yes, yes, I know,” David grumbled. He sighed in the dramatic way Patrick hadn’t seen in full effect until today. “But they’re so heavy.”

“And yet we both dressed to do heavy lifting,” Patrick said with a straight face. He gestured at David’s artfully ripped jeans, hand knitted sweater and perfect hair, then at himself – his oldest jeans and a blue pullover that had seen better days. He knew his cheeks were red and there was almost certainly dirt somewhere on his face.

“I told you, I didn’t think we would be moving every box,” David said.

Patrick stared at him, pushing aside his irritation. “Do you want to get something to eat?” he said suddenly.

“What?” David said. He was eyeing all the boxes they’d already – _Patrick_ had already – taken out of the storeroom.

“Let’s take a break,” Patrick said. “I think we could both do with a breather, and something to eat.”

David took a second to understand before he finally focussed on Patrick. “I’m not in the mood to run the café’s gastro-gauntlet,” he said.

Patrick could see the guilt in his eyes and assumed he wasn’t really that annoyed. David was used to keeping up a front, and he hadn’t yet realised Patrick could see through it. He nodded once and turned to take two plastic boxes out of the grocery bag he’d brought with him that day.

“No problem,” he said easily. “I made us food.”

David looked at him suspiciously, but he accepted the box. “You made us a packed lunch?” he repeated.

“Kind of,” Patrick replied. “It’s enough to tide us over for a while, at least.” He watched amused as David opened the box, peering under the lid before opening it, a flick of astonished eyes meeting Patrick’s before he returned to study the contents.

“You baked?” David asked, poking into the box.

“Brownies,” Patrick confirmed. “The cheese is left over from Friday night, and the crackers aren’t from the store. The applesauce pouch reminded me of school lunches.” He shrugged. “I hope it’s okay.”

“Okay?” David repeated. “This is not just okay, Patrick.” He smiled, his head tilting to one side. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Patrick said, opening his own snacks. “So,” he said, through a bite of brownie, “I’m guessing I’ll be doing the rest of the lifting, which is fine for today.” He looked at David. “But generally speaking, let’s make sure that n future, whoever accepts the goods into the store is responsible for them being logged into inventory.”

David, who was on his second brownie already, nodded, then frowned and shook his head. “What do you mean, ‘accepts the goods into the store’?”

“I mean, we’re going to renegotiate how your stock gets here,” Patrick said. “It will depend on what they’re supplying and how often, but generally speaking, you won’t be offering to pick up any more.”

“What about existing vendors?” David asked. He chewed for another few seconds before admitting, “It’s already probably more than I can manage. With the store open too.”

“Since they got in on the ground floor, so to speak,” Patrick said, “you’ll honour that. But when we see how often you need to visit each area, we can make it more efficient.” He pointed to the ceiling. “What’s up there?”

“Up there?” David repeated, glancing at the ceiling. “Um, storage? I’m not sure.”

“Is it yours to use?” Patrick asked.

“I guess so?” David asked. “Why?”

“If you’re going to be doing fewer trips, it might mean you’ll need to collect a little more from each vendor,” Patrick said. “Which does go against my general preference for efficiency, but it’s a balance. And having you driving all over Ontario three days a week is not as efficient as having you doing targeted visits across the month.”

David nodded, his expression a little dazed. “I’ll find the key,” he said.

Patrick shrugged. “No rush,” he said. “It will take some time to put all this in place. But this is the first step.”

They didn’t speak for a few minutes, and David was tucking the empty applesauce pouch back in the box when he sighed.

“I didn’t realise I was making such a mess of it all,” he muttered into some cheese.

“Hey,” Patrick said, scooting closer on his chair. “You’re not making a mess. You’ve built something beautiful here, David. Something…unique, and with an incredible amount of potential.” He waited, studying David’s face before continuing, “You can’t do it on your own forever. Nobody could.”

David shrugged. He pressed his lips together, a sure sign he was holding in the comment that had come to mind.

“What,” Patrick said. “Come on David, out with it.”

“My dad did,” David blurted. “He did it on his own. Built his company with his own two hands, he told us all the time.”

Patrick’s mouth hung open. “He might have been in charge,” he said carefully, “but he didn’t do it on his own. Not the whole time.”

“And how would you know?” David retorted.

Patrick grinned. “Store 785,” he said. “I worked at a Rose Video all through high school, David.”

“You did?”

“Yep,” Patrick said. “And trust me when I say, there were a hell of a lot of other people working for Rose Video, too. Look, your father might have started his company on his own, but there was a point he had to bring someone else in, and eventually a whole lot more people. It’s not a reflection of him as a businessman. Or as a man. But if you want your business to grow without running you into the ground, you need help.”

David was staring at Patrick. “You’re a very positive person,” he said.

“I am,” Patrick said, popping the last bite of his brownie in his mouth. “And I’m positive we can get the back room stock take done before lunch if we focus.”

David groaned, but he stood up. “Why don’t you do the lifting and I’ll do the writing?” he suggested, taking up the clipboard.

“Great idea, David,” Patrick said with a smile.

They worked steadily until lunch, taking a quick break to brave the Café before coming back to account for all the stock on the floor. It was just gone four when they finally sat down, finished and exhausted.

“So what now?” David asked. His hair was slightly mussed and Patrick thought it was better than the perfect coif he usually bore.

“I’ll enter this into the program the store will be using,” Patrick said. “It will be connected to the register, so you’ll be able to track how much of each product you sell. You can set it to alert you when stock is low so you don’t get caught out. You’ll need to decide how much lead time you’ll need for each product, but I can show you how to do that.”

“Lead time?” David asked. “I don’t know what that means.”

“How much time between realising you need to re-order and the new stock actually arriving,” Patrick explained. “It will depend on the vendor, but you know them best.”

David nodded. “That’s what I was complaining about when we first met,” he said.

Patrick stared. “Was it?” he said. His first impression of David was still how incredible he was to look at, and then the incredulity of him speaking to Patrick at all. The actual conversation hadn’t stuck in his mind.

“Yes,” David replied. “I was surprised you wanted to help me.”

Patrick blinked. “Why wouldn’t I?” he said.

“I literally sat down beside you and started bitching about my own business,” David said. “Hardly interesting.”

“Interesting enough to get me asking questions,” Patrick countered. “And I’m fairly sure you came in to see me later to ask me to help you.”

David nodded, looking down as he twisted his rings. “I lost one of my best suppliers,” he admitted. “I placed the same order twice, and she filled them both but I couldn’t pay her. She was pretty angry.”

“What does she make?” Patrick asked.

“The honey products,” David replied. “Honey, candles, lip balms.” He sighed. “I knew I’d needed help for a while but going and telling my father I couldn’t cope was…” he shook his head and to Patrick’s astonishment he ducked his head, blinking fiercely.

“Hey,” Patrick said, impulsively resting one hand on David’s shoulder. It was warm and solid, but he ignored that for the moment. “This vendor. Did either of you say anything completely terrible?”

David shook his head, but still wouldn’t open his eyes.

“It sounds like you still want to stock her products,” Patrick said. “Is that right?”

David raised his eyes to meet Patrick’s. They were swimming with tears and the mix of emotions was overwhelming. Patrick found his free hand in David’s, resting on his knee. David clenched his fingers hard and he pulled in a deep breath.

“Yes,” he said through a thick throat. “I do. She’s amazing, but she can’t…”

“Hey,” Patrick said. “Let’s just focus on what we can do.” He waited until David opened his eyes. “Would she talk to you if you called?”

David nodded, pressing his lips between his teeth. “I think so,” he whispered.

“Okay,” Patrick said. “I’m pretty confident about some of those grants. A couple won’t come through for a few months but two are local enough that they’ll be approved this week if we’re successful.”

“This week?” David repeated. “And you’re sure you’ll get the money?”

“Oh I’m sure, David,” Patrick said with the same determined intensity he’d had the first time at the Café. “Did you pay…what’s her name?”

“Anthophilia,” David whispered. “Yes, I…I sold my computer on eBay.”

Well, that answered the question about the computer. Patrick was impressed David was willing to sacrifice to keep his vendors happy. It was a good attitude for a small business owner, even if the actual decision wasn’t the greatest.

“Okay, so you don’t owe her any money,” Patrick said. “But she’s not sure you’re in a position to pay regularly, is that fair?”

“Mmm-hmm,” David agreed.

“So what if you could explain your new business strategy?” Patrick said.

“I don’t…I don’t have one of those,” David said.

“Yes, we do,” Patrick said. “I’ll write it out, and I can come with you if you want, but I think you need to go and talk to her. When you explain how you’ll be able to guarantee her payment in future, I’m sure she’ll be on board.”

“I don’t know,” David said, his brow furrowed. “What if…”

“Nope,” Patrick said, gently cutting him off. “We don’t deal in what if. You can’t control that. But you can control this.” He dropped his hand back on David’s shoulder. “Why don’t you call her now and set up a meeting for the start of next week? We’ll know about the grants by then, and I can put together a business plan for you, and a version to show any clients-”

“Vendors,” David interrupted.

“-Vendors,” Patrick repeated, “that might need some confirmation about the financials.”

David blinked. “You really think that will work?” he asked.

“I’ve done it before,” Patrick said. He motioned to David’s phone, sitting by the register. “Go on, call her now. Be your usual schmoozy self.”

David shot him a look. “Okay, we don’t need to say ‘schmoozy’,” he said. Glancing back at Patrick with a nervous smile, David picked up his phone. Patrick saw him take a deep breath before he raised the phone to his ear.

“Annie,” David said, his voice suddenly smooth and bright, “David Rose from Rose Apothecary.”

He nodded a second. “Yes, it’s been a couple of weeks.” He took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologise for the way we left things last time we spoke.” Patrick gave David the thumbs up, but he was concentrating on whatever Annie was saying, nodding with his lips caught between his teeth. “I understand. I was hoping you’d be open to a meeting, maybe next week? I’ve taken on a business partner, someone who’s revamping the way we manage inventory here. He’s very confident the new strategy will avoid the mistake I made last time.”

Patrick was impressed to hear David talk. He was a natural at this, instinctively finding the words to massage this woman’s concerns about working with Rose Apothecary.

“Sure, Wednesday afternoon next week works for me,” David said, raising his eyebrows at Patrick. A vigorous nod from Patrick, and he flashed a nervous smile. “I’ll come out around four?” She said something, and David’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “Yes, I can do that. Thank you so much, Annie. I’ll see you then. Bye.”

It had sounded positive, but Patrick couldn’t be sure until David spoke. He was practically holding his breath until David dropped back into his chair.

“What did she say?” Patrick asked.

David looked shell shocked. “She was happy to hear from me,” he said. “She said she’d been angry about the mistake because she relies on that money to buy materials but she’d regretted it too and figured I wouldn’t want to work with her again. She does want to see the new business strategy, but she also asked me to make sure I had some new contracts so we could start again.” He smiled at Patrick, his face still sagging with relief. “There’s some new beeswax products she wants me to try.”

Relief flowed through Patrick. “That’s amazing,” he said quietly. “And that was all you, David.”

“Hardly,” David replied.

“I didn’t call her,” Patrick protested. “I didn’t apologise, or take responsibility for the mistake last week, or convince her to come back and start supplying Rose Apothecary again.” He grinned at David. “That was all you.”

David nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “You are very good at…” he trailed off.

“At what?” Patrick said. “Tell me, my ego needs a boost.”

David shot him a look, but continued, “You are very good at making me think I can do things.”

Patrick realised this was more about David than himself, but he still smiled. “Thank you,” he said. “So I’m going to input the stocktake data tonight,” he said, “and it will start tracking your stock from tomorrow. You’ll have to set the stock reminder levels, though, so maybe tomorrow night we can sit down and I’ll show you have to do that.”

“Tomorrow night?” David asked. “Are you planning on coming into the store tomorrow?”

“Well, I thought since it was working, I could come in mornings and you could show me how to do the register and teach me about the products you carry,” Patrick said. “Then when you think I’m up to it, I can keep doing mornings but you can come in later. I’d have to still go and do afternoons with other work. What do you think?”

“That works,” David said. He narrowed his eyes. “How quick a learner are you, exactly?”


	8. Chapter 8

It worked so well that Patrick found himself alone in the store Friday morning. David had given him a key the previous day, and it felt like a huge piece of trust he was placing in Patrick.

“Thank you,” Patrick said seriously.

“I’m the one getting to sleep in,” David replied. “I really should be thanking you.”

Patrick had grinned, but a flutter of nerves still wandered through his belly as he opened the store. It hadn’t been too busy during the week, but he was still acutely aware that David wasn’t here this time. Following the opening procedures, he took a deep breath when, at 9.08am, the first customer of the day left, happy with their products.

After that it was busy enough to keep things ticking over. Patrick found time to make some notes about things that needed to be done for the store, and when David rolled in at eleven o’clock, Patrick beamed at him.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” David replied, and it was far more awake than Patrick had ever heard him first thing. “How did you go?”

“No problems,” Patrick said. He flicked to the end of his Rose Apothecary notebook. “I did make a list of questions that occurred to me while I was serving customers. Gaps in my product knowledge.”

David raised his eyebrows. “Okay,” he said. “Give me a second.”

He returned a moment later, answering Patrick’s questions with confidence. For his part Patrick made notes, liking that he had somewhere to refer if someone else asked him the same question. David’s mildly amused expression was infectious and he found himself smiling in return.

“Thanks,” Patrick said when his list was complete.

“No problem,” David replied. “I should thank you, though.”

“Nope,” Patrick said with a grin. They met each other’s eyes for a second, until he blurted, “After a few customers I checked the inventory program and it’s working properly.”

“How long did it take you to do that?” David said. He’d taken a beat to reply and Patrick wondered if he’d been going to start a conversation about something else.

_Don’t start, Brewer._

“Worried about all the overtime you owe me?” Patrick teased.

“Worried about how you had to open the store this morning,” David replied.

“Not too long,” Patrick said. “It’s one of those things that takes a bit to get set up but now that it’s done, it mostly takes care of itself.”

They stopped talking when a pair of customers came in, and Patrick left David to attend them while he stepped into the back, ready to start on the paperwork he hadn’t had a chance to start. It kept him busy, and he was so engrossed in his new spreadsheet he didn’t hear David come in.

“What’s this?” David’s voice was disconcertingly close, and Patrick jumped.

“A spreadsheet,” he said, flushing at the obvious answer. “If you want to improve your sales, you can analyse a bunch of data to target slow times or make a feature of lines that aren’t selling so well.”

David nodded, but Patrick could almost see his eyes glazing over. “It’s more for me than you,” he said. “I mean, I can explain it if you like, but it’s not essential.”

“I think I’ll leave the business stuff to you,” David agreed.

“No problem,” Patrick said with a grin. “What brings you out here?”

“Bored,” David said. “Usually I’d be staring at paperwork wondering where to start. But now I have a business guy to do all that.”

“So you thought you’d come and gloat,” Patrick teased.

“No,” David said, then amended it to, “Not entirely.”

“Do you want me to come out and keep you company?” Patrick said. He glanced at his watch. “I figured I’d stay through lunch so you wouldn’t have to close for lunch hour, then I can go and do other stuff this afternoon.” It was always awkward to remind clients that there were others he was working with, but it was the truth.

“That sounds good,” David replied. “As long as you don’t have to concentrate on what you’re doing?”

“Not right now,” Patrick lied. “I’m just playing around with this. But I thought we could talk about the tasting idea. See if you wanted me to start putting it together.”

“Sure,” David replied. He frowned. “I mean, I can do that. Is it a business thing? Or a…me thing?”

Patrick felt himself flush. “Of course, it’s all you,” he said. “I’m just the business guy.” He felt foolish, overstepping his role as the paperwork-and-grants guy. This was squarely in David’s territory.

“You’re definitely not _just_ the business guy,” David said. As Patrick grabbed his book and a pen, David said, “I used to run a gallery, you know. In New York.”

“So events are your thing, then,” Patrick said. “Are you sure you needed me to suggest that tasting idea?”

They were standing behind the register before David answered. “I needed someone to help me before I would be able to think about that kind of thing,” he said. “I haven’t…” he stopped as the bell over the door rang, and Patrick stepped back, allowing David to deal with the woman who’d walked in. He wondered what David had been going to say.

“Anyway, the tasting,” David said, when the woman had walked out with her purchase. “What were you thinking?”

“What are _you_ thinking?” Patrick countered.

David looked at him as though he could tell what Patrick was doing, but they started talking anyway. Patrick made notes on a new page headed, ‘Tasting Evening – To Do’, and allocated tasks to himself and David as they went. Seeing their initials beside things on the same list gave him a warm glow.

“So I’ll talk to council about the liquor licencing issues and whether we need any other kind of permit, and you’ll work out the combinations and what to charge,” Patrick said. They’d technically talked through lunchtime, the store remaining open, but he ignored the time. Realistically the work he was doing in the afternoons didn’t have a time frame, and this was far more exciting than lodging tax forms for more of Ray’s micro business ideas.

“I don’t really know if my prices are right,” David mused. He glanced at Patrick. “I was kind of making it up as I was going.”

“Well, are people buying things?” Patrick asked.

“Mostly,” David replied.

“I’ll have a look at your margins,” Patrick said, making a note. “Let me know what products you want to feature and I’ll walk you through it.”

David nodded, but he was doing that ‘I won’t say what I’m thinking’ face. “What,” Patrick said flatly.

“It’s a lot,” David said. His face was hesitant, the anxiety back. Patrick hadn’t realised how long it was since he’d seen it until now. “All the business stuff. I thought it would be up to you. Or whoever my business person is.”

Patrick nodded. “If you want me, or whoever your business person is, to have input, that’s up to you,” he said. “But when it comes down to it, this is your business. And you can do this. It sounds fancy, considering profit margins, but it’s not complicated. And we have lots of time. You’ll surprise yourself with how fast you’ll pick it up, I promise.”

David nodded, fingers relaxing and stopping worrying his rings. “Okay,” he said.

Patrick opened his mouth, but his stomach rumbled instead. “Why don’t I grab us lunch?” he said. “I can man the store while you eat.”

“Sure,” David said.

Patrick chose cheeseburgers for them both, and gambled on the contents of a serve of salad greens, too. David raised his eyebrows, but they turned out to be not too bad. A little wilted but at least he didn’t find any caterpillars.

“Okay,” Patrick said when his cheeseburger was done. “Should we meet back here to go through the rest of the stock reminder alerts we didn’t do last week?” He grinned at David’s dramatic sigh. “Come on David, we can’t keep ignoring it.”

“Isn’t this the kind of thing I’m paying you for?” David asked.

“At this point you’re not paying me at all,” Patrick pointed out. “And I have no idea what the lead time is on,” he glanced around, “these natural breath mints. Would two days be long enough?”

“They are hand made to order,” David started, then stopped when he spotted Patrick’s, ‘See?’ face. “Fine,” he said. “But I reserve the right to bring wine.”

“So I’m cooking, am I?” Patrick asked. “That would make two Friday nights in a row, David.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Does that mean we’re going steady?”

“Not unless you give me your letter jacket,” David retorted.

Patrick grinned, relieved David had gone along with his joke-that-wasn’t-quite-a-joke. He liked the idea of them having a regular night to hang out together. He jotted a couple of notes, then handed them to David. “This is your to-do list for this afternoon if there’s time. I’ll stop at the town hall on my way home.”

“Fine,” David said, rolling his eyes.

“See you at six thirty,” Patrick said. “Don’t bring cheese. It won’t count as sales unless we actually sell it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” David replied.

+++

The afternoon raced by, Patrick working full tilt to get his paying work out of the way as fast as possible. He’d still have to play catch up a bit tomorrow but since he had a kind-of date this evening, he had other things to do. Like cook, apparently.

With enough time to prepare, Patrick made his mother’s lasagne recipe. Ray was bright and cheery and Patrick wondered if he’d be hanging around this evening, but as soon as he heard Patrick say David would be coming over Ray immediately raised both palms.

“I understand,” he said with his trademark grin. “I can go into Elmdale to see the new Fast and Furious movie.”

Patrick blinked. “You’re…what?”

“You and David,” Ray said, with the kind of heavy emphasis that only meant one thing. “You need your privacy. It is fine, Patrick. I want you to treat this as your home.” He patted Patrick on the shoulder. “I’ll come in tomorrow morning to see if you two are in the mood for pancakes or eggs.”

“Please knock,” Patrick said weakly. Clearly, Ray had made his conclusion about he and David, and it seemed a great effort to dissuade him from that idea. Maybe it would make him knock before he came in, but Patrick didn’t hold out a lot of hope.

At least he and David would have some privacy.

Patrick was ready at six, pacing around his bedroom and wondering if he should have changed his shirt. He’d had a shower, so it was reasonable for him to be wearing a new outfit, but was this the right shirt? It was blue, as was most of his wardrobe, but was it the _right_ blue? Finally Patrick refused to dither any longer, heading downstairs to put the lasagne in the oven and stop worrying about his wardrobe.

_Business. Meeting._

While he waited, Patrick checked his emails. One caught his eye, and he held his breath while he opened it. He might have accidentally crossed his fingers, but he wouldn’t swear to it.

They’d gotten the grants.

Both local grants, which would be a significant boost to the store’s bank balance. It would mean he could set up the bank accounts the way he wanted with the buffer he advised all his clients to start with. There wasn’t quite enough to start paying himself, not if the store would need to invest in a computer soon, but it wouldn’t be too long.

Not that he really cared. Patrick had enough to get by, and for once in his life he was happy to be short sighted about his financial decisions. If David never made enough money to pay him Patrick wouldn’t care. Even if they went their separate ways in six months and he didn’t see a cent, Patrick would consider it six months well spent.

He was still smiling when someone knocked at the door, and to his amusement, he realised it was twenty-nine minutes past six.

“You’re early,” Patrick said with a grin.

“You’re pedantic,” David retorted. “And right,” he allowed, checking his watch. “And happy,” he said, noting Patrick’s wide grin.

“We got the grants,” Patrick told him.

“Seriously?” David whispered.

“Yep,” Patrick said, drinking in the cautious happiness now radiating from David. “The local ones that I told you would come through this week.”

“So that means I can meet with Annie?” David said. “Oh God, I have no idea…”

“David,” Patrick interrupted, his voice gentle. He waited until David met his eyes. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow. There’s plenty of time, and I’ve done the business plan. I just have to talk you through it.”

“You have?” David asked. “When did you have time to do that?”

Patrick shrugged. He didn’t really want to get into how many hours he spent thinking about the store. And its owner. And the future of it, and how he probably wouldn’t be here to see it. “It’s pretty standard,” he said, the half-truth enough for him to meet David’s eyes. “Didn’t take too long.”

“Okay,” David said. He lifted the wine. “Well, celebration then!”

“Sure,” Patrick grinned. “Is this one of the wines for the tasting night?”

“It is,” David said. They walked through to the kitchen, David telling Patrick all about the wine and the amazing vintner, Harlequin Rose. “No relation,” he added. “Oh my God,” he said, stepping into the kitchen. “Did you make a lasagne?”

“How the heck did you pick that?” Patrick asked with a laugh.

David gave him the, ‘oh please’ look. “I’ll assume it’s not in the microwave,” he said.

“Nope,” Patrick replied. “It’s my mother’s recipe.”

“Oooh my God,” David said again. “Is it ready now?”

“Soon,” Patrick laughed. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to run out. There’s plenty.”

“If anything can motivate me to learn about profit margins, it’s somebody’s mother’s lasagne,” he said.

“Well why don’t we do Profit Margins 101 while we wait,” Patrick said. “Because I spoke to someone on council and she said if we charge a cover, we don’t have to worry about a liquor licence. So that might be easier. And as long as it all takes place inside the store, we can do, and I quote, ‘Whatever the hell we want.’”

“That would be Ronnie,” David grinned.

“Yep,” Patrick replied. “Anyway, it’s good news, so I thought we could plan to do the night next week.”

“Next week?” David said.

“Tuesday,” Patrick said firmly. “I can print flyers tomorrow and we can start promoting it.” He could see doubt on David’s face. “Let’s get it started, David. You can do it.”

David swallowed, but nodded. He looked tense, so Patrick sat back with his wine glass. “Tell me about the gallery you ran,” he said. “In New York.”

David looked at him suspiciously, but started to talk. Patrick listened, asking questions but mainly watching David. He was so expressive, and from the stories he was telling, working with people was what he excelled at. It was enchanting, watching him talk about how he convinced two people with a famous feud to hold a show together; it was so well attended they sold everything and took a pile of commissions from people itching to see a fight that never eventuated. His skill was evident and Patrick marvelled that someone so clever professionally was still nervous about dealing with his own family.

“I think the lasagne should be ready,” Patrick said finally.

David looked around, startled. “You were going to teach me about profit margins,” he said.

“Basically, you charge cost plus twenty percent plus taxes,” Patrick said, pulling the lasagne out of the oven. “Might be a little more or less depending on demand and other factors.”

David looked at him. “That’s it?”

Patrick shrugged. “That’s the 101 version,” he said. “And if you never learned more, it’s a good place to start from. You’ll work out where you can tweak things and the more you do it, the better you’ll get at working out where a good price point is for new lines.” He glanced at David, who was frowning. “What?”

“That’s what I was doing,” David said. “Charging cost plus twenty percent. I did forget to account for taxes, but otherwise…” He blinked at Patrick. “It’s really that easy?”

“It can be,” Patrick said. He’d served while David was thinking and now he placed bowls on the table. “I’m not going to overwhelm you with super complicated stuff, David. You already have a good instinct for business.”

David made a sound clearly meant to imply he didn’t believe Patrick. His mouth was already full of lasagne.

“You do,” Patrick said. He picked up his fork and pointed it at David, his elbow resting on the table. “Do you know how likely it is that you would have survived so long with no experience? Practically unheard of. But you’re incredibly persuasive with your vendors, they can see how passionate you are about their products. And you’ve just told me you priced your products at a reasonable point based on your experience in an art gallery in New York, the complete opposite end of the retail spectrum.”

David had been chewing the whole time Patrick spoke, and he now swallowed. “Two things,” he said. “Firstly, your mother is a genius. This is amazing.” Patrick grinned, waiting for the second thing. “And secondly, you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” Patrick said.

“Making me think I am actually competent,” David said, and although he smiled, Patrick could feel the truth beneath the words.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. “Well to finish that conversation, let’s aim to get the tasting night details done by the end of the weekend,” Patrick said. “We can always do it Monday if we need to, but I don’t think it will be that complicated.”

David nodded. “So this recipe, how carefully are you actually guarding it?” he said. “And on a scale of one to ten how likely is it your mother would be open to bribery?”

Patrick grinned, and the conversation moved on.


	9. Chapter 9

Patrick blinked at the date he’d just written on the top of the page. Was that right? He double checked. No it wasn’t, but the reason he’d gotten it wrong was that it was the first of the month, and his birthday was in the same month. He’d written his birthday automatically.

He kept blinking. How had it gotten so close and he hadn’t realised?

_Busy. Not happy, exactly, but content._

Patrick pushed back from the desk, unsettled by his sudden realisation. He nodded at David as he headed out the door with a vague idea that he needed some space to think. It didn’t occur to him to say anything to David; he was outside and sitting on the edge of the garden around the corner before he really knew what he was doing.

What _was_ he doing?

It was almost four months now. Four months since he’d come to Schitt’s Creek, found somewhere to live with Ray and met David. It had been strange at first, but once Patrick got used to the rhythm of his life in the town, he settled in without looking back.

After the first tasting night was a moderate success – David was incredibly excited, Patrick more circumspect, though it was difficult in the face of David’s enthusiasm – they’d decided to make it a semi-regular thing. David decided to theme each month, and Patrick had to admit the idea worked. They’d started getting people coming in asking for recommendations and buying wine, cheese, and crackers all together, just as they’d hoped would happen, and David rearranged the displays to emphasise how well the products complimented each other. The vendors were happy, especially the cheese maker David had to ask to increase production so they could keep up with demand. Now, he was collaborating with one of the wine makers, and David had agreed to feature their pairing when the special release matched wine and cheese were both ready.

A regular routine had eased up on them, Patrick opening then staying through lunch before heading off to do other work at home. If David didn’t come over for dinner they would text regularly through the evening. It started with brainstorming ideas to get people into the store, mostly based around featured products (David) or trying to get their store on a ‘must visit’ trail of the region (a longer term goal of Patrick’s). Increasingly, Patrick was finding David would start texting earlier in the afternoon, sometimes before he’d even walked all the way home. Much as he chided David for texting during store hours, Patrick had to admit it was fun. They were becoming comfortable with each other, and though Patrick was careful with how much he talked about himself, he could feel David’s curiosity, especially when he mentioned life before Schitt’s Creek.

The guilt grew in tandem with their comfort. He hadn’t talked about why he left Toronto again since their first conversation. Patrick knew there was more information – important information, depending on your point of view – but he wasn’t sure how to bring it up. It would certainly be relevant in certain circumstances, but in other circumstances…well, it would be moot. But he wouldn’t know without putting himself on the line and he wasn’t willing to risk things.

He and David hadn’t even signed a contract in the end. They’d both been so focussed on the day-to-day, getting David ready to see Annie about her honey products (she greeted him warmly and signed the new contract immediately, offering him a sample set of her new beeswax wraps and agreeing to work with him to do a single delivery to the store on a yet-to-be-determined regular basis). The tasting night had been the day before that meeting, and they didn’t want to lose that momentum either, so Patrick worked a lot of extra hours, most of which he didn’t bill David for. Between his actual paying work, the setup work for the store, new ventures for the store and dealing with David, who was a tour de force all on his own, Patrick barely had time to think. By the time he found the half-finished contract under a deep pile of almost-forgotten papers, it felt too late. He was here now, and there was no way he was leaving. Not now, when things were just taking off. Besides, it wasn’t even six months yet.

And there was David.

Patrick sighed, plucking absently at a flower from the garden. David was the central focus of Patrick’s life, if he was honest. He was eating and breathing the store; even when he was doing other work, his mind often wandered to what David was doing or how a new strategy was working. He found himself checking his phone constantly, smiling automatically when David’s name came up. It was lucky living in Schitt’s Creek was so cheap because Patrick wasn’t taking on any new clients, so he was doing the very smallest amount of paid work he could get away with.

The store was doing well, financially speaking. It wasn’t making a lot of money, but there had been enough to pay all the bills, and they were on track to be able to afford a laptop for David within the calendar year. One more grant had been approved and two others rejected, but both had made suggestions for the store to ‘better meet the requirements’ of those programs. Patrick was confident it would be showing a profit before Christmas.

And therein lay the problem.

Once the store was making a profit, he was technically not needed anymore. That was the point he generally parted ways with a business he’d helped. There was the initial set up, then he offered off-site support (usually emails and a couple of face to face meetings if they were close enough), then Patrick had final meeting, sending them off on their way. Besides, if the store was making a profit, paying himself back for the hours he worked would eat up almost all of it, even if he gave David a generous discount. And ignored the extra hours.

He couldn’t do that to David.

He couldn’t do it to himself.

The best idea, as far as Patrick could see, was to stay longer. Wait until the store was making enough money to support an employee. He could be the employee for a while, paying himself back for his hours, then when he left, David would be able to pay someone to do the books part-time. Someone with tax experience and small business experience, who could be patient when their boss got stroppy. And deal with the random panicking and David’s tendency to ‘damage out’ any cheese he felt he needed. And remember his coffee order. A morning person, willing to do the first couple of hours on the floor, but also prepared to stay late for the feature nights.

Patrick sighed. That person didn’t exist. Well, they did, but right now they were sitting on the edge of a garden, picking the petals of some poor unsuspecting flower. And there was no way, he knew, he’d find anyone even half as invested in David’s store as he was.

But none of this had anything to do with Patrick’s birthday.

This would be his first birthday on his own. No Rachel, no parents, no easy friends from his hockey team.

For some reason Patrick suddenly felt a long way from those people. He’d been so wrapped up in what he was doing here – in David and the store – he’d all but forgotten home.

“Patrick?”

David’s voice was tentative. Patrick looked up. David looked anxious, standing where he could see the entrance to the store, but also Patrick.

“Yeah,” Patrick said. “I’m here. Just needed…just needed a minute.”

David nodded, twisting his fingers together. “You didn’t say anything,” he said. “Which is fine, you don’t have to tell me where you’re going or anything.”

Of course Patrick didn’t, but David’s concern was completely understandable. It was very weird for Patrick to leave in the middle of the morning without saying anything.

“Yeah, sorry,” Patrick muttered.

David was looking at him hard, and he said suddenly, “Can we go back inside? Only the store’s still open and we’re out here.”

“Yes, of course,” Patrick said immediately, standing up so he could follow David inside. “I’ll get back to it.”

He headed right back to the office, David’s worried eyes burning into his back.

He’d made exactly no progress – except for correcting the date – when David arrived in the office ten minutes later. He plonked two coffees and a paper bag Patrick recognised as muffins from the café on the desk.

“What?” Patrick asked, looking at him.

“Twyla brought them over,” David said. “And I’ve made a sign, back in fifteen minutes.” He had a strange mix of nerves and determination in his eyes as he said, “So you have fourteen minutes to tell me what’s going on so we can fix it.”

“What?” Patrick repeated himself.

“I bought coffee and muffins,” David said, “and now I’m listening.” He spread his hands wide. “You never leave in the middle of the day, and you definitely never leave without saying where you’re going. And usually asking if I want anything to eat. And telling me how long you’ll be.”

Patrick blinked. “You’re right,” he said. He shouldn’t be surprised David was so perceptive. Reaching for his coffee, he took a sip. “Woah, what is this?”

David frowned. He drank from the other. “This one’s mine,” he said. “I ordered you whatever you usually have.”

Patrick stared, then a slow smile spread over his face despite himself. “Do you know what my usual is?”

“Of course I do,” David said defensively. When Patrick raised an eyebrow, he slumped a little. “Well, not specifics, but I know that Twyla knows.”

“Well based on this, she’s made two of what you usually have,” Patrick said. “Because this has enough caffeine to blow my head off. And it’s like drinking candy.” David’s face was horrified, and Patrick reached out to pat his knee. “It’s fine,” he said. “It’s not your fault, and I appreciate the thought.”

“Well now that we’ve worked that out, what made you leave so suddenly?” David said, the determination flashing through again.

Patrick sipped again at his drink, wincing when he remembered what was in the cup. He put it down and reached for a muffin. He wanted something to do with his hands. “I realised I haven’t called my family in a while,” he said.

David blinked. “And that’s…did that upset you?” he asked cautiously.

“Kind of,” Patrick said. “I used to be close to them, you know? Lived nearby, saw them all the time. And I told them I was going, but not the whole story why, and now I haven’t called them in a couple of weeks.”

David nodded, sitting back, eyes narrowing. “Have they called you?” he asked suddenly.

“What?” Patrick asked.

“Have they called you?” David repeated. He sounded more confident when he continued, “Phones work in both directions, Patrick. And I’m assuming they have your email too.”

Patrick blinked. “Well, yes they do,” he said. “Of course they do.”

“Have they called you?” David said.

Patrick swallowed. “No,” he said.

David tilted his head, nodding once. “And last time you talked to…your parents?” Patrick nodded and David went on, “What did you say?”

“What do you mean?” Patrick said.

“I mean, did you give them a reason to think you might need some space,” David said. “Because if you told them how busy you are, how great it is to live here, how much you’re enjoying the change of scenery and getting your head right, they might have thought you wanted them to leave you alone for a while.”

It was the longest speech Patrick could remember David making about something that didn’t really have anything to do with him. He stared at David, who took his own muffin and broke a piece off, meeting Patrick’s eyes with a flash of smugness as Patrick thought through his last conversation with his father.

“How the heck did you know that?” Patrick whispered.

David shrugged. “A lot of therapy,” he said. “And a lot of anxiety about people.”

He didn’t expand on it, but Patrick had the impression there was a lot more under that than David was saying.

“Thank you,” Patrick said. “For this.” He waved one hand at the food and between them. “I feel better.”

“Communication is a two way street,” David said in the sing-song voice of a therapist’s mantra.

Patrick rolled his eyes, smiling at him. “Yeah, I’ll remember that,” he said. He took a deep breath. “So, did Twyla say anything about the candles?”

“Her yoga clients like the scent, but nobody has bought any yet,” David said.

“It’s still new,” Patrick said. “I’m sure once she starts her virtual class and encourages people to buy a candle to burn while they follow we’ll get some people in.”

David nodded. “It was a good idea,” he said. “For her and for us.”

“Pairing with other local businesses is beneficial for both of you,” Patrick said with a smile. “Which you already do because that is literally your whole business model.”

David rolled his eyes, pulling his phone out. “I wish she’d send me the photos I asked for,” he said. “I want to put them on our Insta page.”

Patrick nodded. “How is that going?”

“Slowly,” David admitted. “What we really need is one big account to follow us, or promote us or something.”

“That is very much your domain,” Patrick said. “I don’t even have an Instagram account.”

David nodded seriously. “I’ve already reached out to a few people,” he admitted, eyes locked on his phone.

“No luck?” Patrick asked.

“I’m sure they’re busy,” David said, the answer typically defensive. Patrick’s heart clenched at the casual nonchalance and the obvious pain it covered.

_They didn’t even bother replying to him._

“Well, slow and steady is good too,” Patrick told him. He opened his mouth but the phone rang. It was closer to David than Patrick, so he answered while Patrick took a bite of his muffin.

“Patrick Brewer?” David repeated, eyes meeting Patrick’s.

He was still working on a mouthful of muffin, so David took a message, but he was frowning when he hung up, staring at his notes.

“Who was it?” Patrick asked when he could finally speak.

“Amanda Greenwood from Greenwood Tours?” David said, the words carefully pronounced. “She wants to set up a meeting to talk about your proposal.”

Patrick had frozen at the woman’s name, and now his heart started thumping hard. “She wants to meet?” he said.

“Yes,” David said, eyes burning into Patrick with increasing desperation to know what was going on. “Why? Who is she Patrick?”

“Greenwood Tours,” Patrick said, swallowing. His throat was dry and he took a drink from his cup, not even wincing at the shot of caffeine it offered. “They offer tours around this part of Ontario. I emailed them a proposal for a new tour route, taking in wineries and other small businesses in the area.”

“Including us?” David asked, his eyebrows sky high as Patrick spoke.

“Featuring us,” Patrick said. “And if it goes well, I have an idea that would be good for the whole town.”

David’s mouth was hanging open. “The whole _town?_ ” he whispered.

Patrick nodded, his mouth working automatically. “They could do a two-day tour out here from Elm Glen, put people up at the motel, offer meals at the Café, and we could do some kind of a feature evening here. Maybe with more than one kind of product, depending on what people want.”

He couldn’t tell if David liked the idea or not, and he found himself explaining. “Their tour buses are small, maybe thirty people, but I figured that’s probably all we could handle, at least at the beginning. But I chose wineries we already work with, and we could cross-promote, try and maximise people buying their wine at the wineries then matching cheese and things here.”

“Patrick,” David said, and the single word made him shut up, heart pounding hard. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

Patrick shrugged, self-conscious. “It seemed like a long shot,” he admitted. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed. And I figured I’d tell you if we got a meeting.”

“Well, we got a meeting,” David said, waving his coffee cup. He realised he was holding it and took a deep drink before putting it down a little too hard on the desk. “Oh my God, we got a meeting with them!”

His wide grin was disbelieving and Patrick finally relaxed. David was okay with the idea. He hadn’t overstepped the mark.

“Actually,” Patrick said, figuring he’d strike while the iron was hot, “I thought we could revisit the idea of the open mic night.”

David, who was enjoying a celebratory bite of muffin, froze, eyes narrowing as he looked at Patrick. “We spoke about the open mic night,” he said carefully. “I’m not sure it’s entirely on brand for Rose Apothecary.”

Patrick nodded. They’d had this conversation several times, but it was a good idea and he was determined to get David to try it, even once.

“It could be a good chance to tell people about the new fortified wines Daria wants us to sell,” Patrick pointed out. “Giving them something to do so they’ll hang out, and we could do half pours so people will try more varieties.”

David’s expression was still exasperated, but it was softer than it had been when Patrick floated this idea. “I’ll think about it,” he said finally. “But you do all the work, and if it’s terrible, we’ll never do it again.”

“Agreed,” Patrick said.

“And you can cook me dinner,” David added.

“I always cook you dinner,” Patrick said with a grin.

David rolled his eyes, but he was grinning too.


	10. Chapter 10

After extensive discussion, they closed the store for one day to meet with Amanda. David wanted to close for two days and take their time, but Patrick pointed out that every day they were closed lost money. It wasn’t a difficult decision, but David still wasn’t happy with the program. The drive was brutal – several hours after closing at usual time, an overnight stay in the cheapest motel they could find, and the rest of the way starting early the next morning to make their afternoon meeting.

It was weird, sleeping beside David the first night. Patrick had been too keyed up to sleep, though David took a pill of something and dropped right off. His tiny snores were adorable, and in the end it was that small, regular reminder they were in this together that helped Patrick get to sleep.

The meeting had gone well. More than well in fact; Amanda had brought a bunch of paperwork that showed the company was almost as keen as Patrick and David about getting this off the ground.

“There are some excellent wineries in that region,” Amanda told them. “But nobody is really exploring them, they’re that little bit too far from Toronto to do day trips. Longer term, we could look at one- or two-night weekends, but we’d need to know the demand is there, build up some excitement for the area. If we can start with day trips out of Elm Glen, it could really take off. Working with someone that has the local knowledge would really give us an edge.” To Patrick’s delight, she’d mentioned expansion ideas, should the first tour route be successful, and the fact that she called it the _first_ tour route sent tingles down Patrick’s spine.

As soon as the meeting was done they headed back, Patrick hoping to open the store at usual time the following morning. They’d agreed to stop close to midnight at whatever town they happened to be near at the time. This part of the drive was much easier, their conversation tumbling back and forth as they talked about all the work they would already need to do and traded ideas about the future.

Right now they were in a place called Holdings, which would give Schitt’s Creek a run for its ‘tiny town’ money. A gas station with café attached and a town hall were all that sat beside the motel. The town declared a population of several hundred, but they’d only seen one bored waitress and a handful of diners at the café. Cheeseburgers and fries and David ordered a milkshake; it was edible but only because they were so used to the food at home.

When they checked into their motel it was late, and the receptionist made sure they knew she’d had to wait up for them. Patrick, always a people pleaser, made sure to pay in advance and explain they were heading out early but they’d leave the key on the bed so they wouldn’t wake her. She didn’t quite smile, and Patrick wondered if this was what Stevie was like to the usual guests at the motel.

Now they each sat on their respective beds, Patrick very aware of David only an arm’s length away. He wasn’t speaking, but the small crease between his eyebrows was familiar as he scrolled.

_He’s coming down. Starting to think about all the things that could go wrong._

“You were amazing,” Patrick said, diverting David’s mind from the spiral it was inevitably beginning to ride. “Amanda loved you.”

“She loved my knowledge about the area,” David countered.

“She loved how passionate you are about the area and the vendors that live there,” Patrick said. “Not to mention how excited you were about the way they run their company.”

David nodded. He’d done a lot of research, to Patrick’s astonishment, checking on Greenwood Tours and how they treated the smaller vendors and wineries they worked with. He’d even called a few.

“It’s called due diligence, Patrick,” he said when he’d causally dropped it into the conversation on the way to Toronto. Patrick nodded, but he’d almost driven off the road. David checking on the ethics of someone he wanted to work with was entirely on brand but still, it somehow surprised him.

Glancing over, Patrick grinned at David’s studied concentration, hoping Patrick wouldn’t keep trying to talk him out of his spiral. Impulsively, Patrick sent David a message.

_When do you think they’ll get back with the green light on the first tour?_

David’s eyebrows rose at the message, but it was chased by a quick smile. He glanced at Patrick as he typed.

_Soon, I hope. I barely slept last night._

Patrick snorted.

_Your snoring says otherwise._

“I do not snore,” David gasped, staring indignantly at Patrick.

“You do,” Patrick replied. “It’s adorable.”

He clamped his mouth shut, mortified he’d let that opinion out. David’s eyebrows rose, his mouth dropping open. Patrick could feel his face heating up, but he resolutely held David’s eyes.

“Don’t try and distract me with your compliments,” David said finally, though Patrick could see he was still trying to work it out.

“Like a little mouse,” Patrick added, grinning widely at the outrage on David’s face. The teasing dynamic was familiar, and he hoped David wouldn’t start a more serious conversation. Not right now, when they were sharing a motel room hours and hours from home.

_What would I say?_

David looked like he was gearing up for a good argument when Patrick’s phone pinged. He grabbed it, recognising the email tone, and his mouth drop open when he scanned the new message.

“Oh my God,” he whispered.

“What?” David said.

“It’s from Amanda,” Patrick replied. He scanned the email, knowing his smile was growing wider as his eyes raced down the page. He looked up to find David close, leaning forward trying to read over his shoulder. Impatiently David snatched his phone, reading with the same desperation Patrick had done.

“She wants us to set up the tour?” David asked. “Like, officially?”

“It’s a formal business agreement,” Patrick confirmed. “Offering to pay us if we negotiate on behalf of Greenwood Tours to get vendors on board.”

“Initially…four wineries plus us, but with scope for more if it’s successful. One weekend a month to begin with,” David paraphrased as he read on.

Patrick waited until David raised his eyes, the disbelief slowly being replaced with excitement.

“It’s going to be so much work,” David whispered, and the response to their biggest professional coup was so unexpected Patrick couldn’t stop laughing.

“Yes,” Patrick said, “but only in the beginning. And you already know these people, remember? You’ll go and get them on board, probably just a phone call really, then Amanda will work out the timing and you’ll confirm with the vendors.” He grinned. “This is big, David. This could turn into something that really helps the whole area. More than just Schitt’s Creek, even.”

David nodded. He swallowed. “I think…maybe I should call my Dad.” He swallowed again. “He wanted me to call him when we found out.”

“You told him what we were doing?” Patrick asked, surprised.

David shrugged, the casual gesture he used to deflect anything that might be too emotionally deep. “Broadly.”

“Call him,” Patrick said.

“It’s late,” David said.

“He’ll want to hear this,” Patrick replied. “Call him.”

David did, pacing and throwing nervous glances at Patrick until his Dad picked up. It was interesting to see David interact with his father. His body language said _nervous, intimidated_ , but the response was clearly delighted, his face relaxed and he smiled, describing the initial deal and expanding with details under his father’s obvious probing questions.

“So?” Patrick said when David hung up.

“He’s happy for us,” David said. He looked at Patrick. “He said he’s proud of me.”

“Of course he is,” Patrick replied. “Your business is doing well.”

David nodded, but something had changed after Patrick’s words. He dropped to his bed, phone forgotten behind him.

“What?” Patrick said. He was getting used to asking that. Getting used to reading David’s mood changes and knowing when to push.

“You said ‘your business’,” David said quietly.

“Yes,” Patrick replied. “It is your business.”

David looked at him from the opposite bed. “We never signed a contract, did you realise?”

Patrick stilled, looking for a sign from David. “Yeah,” he said. “I did realise that.”

David nodded. “What…what does that mean?” he said.

“That I realised?” Patrick said. “Or that we didn’t sign?”

David shrugged, a twitch of his shoulders. “Either,” he said.

Patrick thought about it. “I think it meant we trusted each other,” he said. “And if we both realised but didn’t say anything, I think it means we still trust each other.”

He swallowed, watching David to see how he’d react. To Patrick’s relief, he was nodding, though his eyes were guarded. “I’m not…trust is not something I’m familiar with,” he said quietly.

_I’ve been burned before._

He didn’t say them, but Patrick heard the words as clearly as if David’s mouth had shaped them. “Thank you,” he said.

“For what?” David said.

“For letting me help with your business,” Patrick said. He’d wanted to say, “For trusting me,” but he didn’t want to put words in David’s mouth.

“Sometimes, you say ‘we’,” David said. “When you’re talking about the store.”

“Do I?” Patrick said, blinking.

David nodded. “When you’re talking about things to be done, it’s ‘we should’, or ‘we’ll have to’. But the store is always, ‘your store’.”

“Yes,” Patrick said. He wasn’t entirely sure what David was heading towards. “It is your store. And we both work there.” He could see David struggling with something, whether it was a detail in his head or the right way to express himself. Much as he wanted to prompt David, Patrick held his tongue. This was important and he didn’t want to push anything.

“Sometimes,” David started, then blurted, “sometimes it feels like ‘our’ store.”

Patrick’s breath caught in his throat. David wasn’t speaking, but his eyes were locked on Patrick’s, as desperate to see how he’d react as Patrick had been earlier.

_Our store._

“And how…I mean, is that a…good thing?” Patrick asked. He didn’t want to give anything away until he knew how David felt about this.

David frowned. “I think so,” he said. He nodded, his voice sounding more certain this time. “I think so.”

“Okay,” Patrick said. He swallowed. “Does that mean you’d like to talk about extending our working agreement?”

David blinked. “I don’t know what you mean by that,” he said, “but I’d like you to be part of this business.” He took a deep breath. “Permanently.”

_Permanently._

“Right,” Patrick said, swallowing. He rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, David, I’m just not entirely sure what you mean. Do you mean you want to employ me? Or you want me to buy into your business?”

“I don’t know,” David said. “I just… this is big.” He waved one hand around the room. “It’s exciting, but it’s big. And you know a lot more about all this than I do, and I don’t know how I could do it without you.” He’d started emphatic, but as he moved through the sentence David’s voice became quieter until the last words were almost a whispered admission.

Patrick’s head was ringing, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. Much as he wanted to immediately say yes, the cautious part of him was rearing its head.

“Wow,” Patrick said. “I…I’ll have to think about it. Not because I don’t want to…not because I don’t believe in this business, but it’s a big decision.” He smiled, or tried to. “Can I get back to you in a couple of days?”

“Of course,” David replied, but he was playing with his rings again.

Patrick studied him.

_He’d be a terrible poker player._

“Just so you know, I’m not planning on leaving soon,” he said. “I agreed to six months, and I won’t go before then.”

David nodded in the manner of someone that isn’t quite comforted by a statement. “It’s late,” he said. “We should probably get some sleep.”

Patrick had the distinct impression he’d done the wrong thing somewhere. “Sure, David,” he said. “Good night.”

+++

The drive the next morning was a largely silent affair. Patrick hadn’t slept well, and from the lack of snoring across the room, neither had David. They left before dawn, stopping only for coffee at the first roadhouse for terrible if strong coffee. Patrick drove, David closed his eyes, and it was only the whirr of the engine to keep them company.

Patrick had no idea what exactly he’d said or done the previous night, but he knew early morning was not the time to press David for a coherent conversation, no matter how much of a captive audience he might be. Instead he made mental lists to pass the time – things to do today, things to do for the open mic night, things to do for Amanda. Only when he had those firmly done did he turn to the more important lists he really should be considering.

Staying in Schitt’s Creek: Pros and Cons.

Well firstly – and this belonged on neither, but was a detail to be discussed – he didn’t know if David was asking him to work for the store or buy into it. They were very different prospects, and although Patrick was fairly sure David didn’t see the distinction, he certainly did.

One was work _for_ me.

One was work _with_ me.

Emotionally, they felt worlds apart.

Functionally they would probably be the same. Patrick and David had found a good rhythm, their division of business and aesthetic tasks working to both their strengths. Whether he was an employee or part-owner, Patrick doubted whether David would want to change that. He might not even really notice the difference, but Patrick certainly would. If he was an employee, David would be his boss. He would be able to walk away, if he wanted to, no strings. On the other hand, David could also end things.

Buying in, though, that was a commitment. The option to walk away would still be there if he wanted to become a silent partner, but Patrick knew that if he bought in he would be _in_. And not just for the store. He wasn’t just deciding how committed he was to the store. Because in the almost-silence of this car, with David inches from his elbow, Patrick was able to admit something he’d shied away from for months. Something only David’s conversation last night had pushed him to consider in the space of his mind.

David and the store were one and the same, and Patrick was equally invested in both. The question now sat with him, clear but complex: How much did he want to commit to the store, and by extension, David?

_Jesus. I need a hike._

“NO!”

Patrick didn’t realise how much his attention had drifted until David’s startled cry pulled him back to the car. He wrenched at the wheel, the burst of adrenalin spiking through his arms. Instinctively he slammed on the brake, and the car skidded, fishtailing a little until they came to a stop, close to the centre of the thankfully deserted road.

Patrick’s fingers were gripping the wheel tight and he could hear his breathing as air tore from his lungs. The tingling across his shoulders continued as he released the brakes just enough to allow the car to coast to the side of the road. With the care of a drunk person reaching for a glass, Patrick closed his fingers around his keys, turning them until the engine cut out. Without that sound in the background, his breath was even louder, and it took several before he was able to look at David.

He’d reached forward, one hand braced on the dash, one on the door beside him. His eyes were wide, mouth dropped as he stared through the windscreen. Definitely awake, and Patrick wondered if his cry or the car’s motion had woken him. Either way he swallowed hard before turning his gaze to Patrick.

“Patrick?”

David’s voice was whisper quiet and full of one emotion, enough to make the air quiver between them.

Fear.

Patrick had no idea how he was meant to react to that. He knew what his instinct told him; hug David, comfort him, make sure he was okay. Find out what he’d been dreaming about. But complicating matters was one thing; complicating them in the middle of nowhere when you had another two hours to drive before opening the store together, that was entirely another.

_Need space._

Wrenching open his door, Patrick stepped out, hands shaking too much to close the door. There was nobody around, not in the early morning light of this field, and he took half a dozen strides away from the car, feeling his hamstrings stretch as he put distance between him and the car.

“Patrick!”

David’s voice was panicky, and Patrick slowed, jerking away from the birds startled into flight by the cry. He closed his eyes, knowing David would follow him. Two seconds to pull himself together was hardly sufficient but at least out here there was a little more space between them. David’s boots crunched on the gravel on the side of the road as he approached. Patrick could picture him standing several paces away, no doubt fiddling with his rings, eyes worried and brow furrowed.

With a deep breath Patrick turned. David looked exactly as he’d imagined, though his shoulders were more hunched. The air didn’t feel cold but David’s face was partially obscured by clouds of vapour, giving away his rapid breathing.

“Patrick?” David said, the question clear. His eyes were searching, but Patrick could see he was braced for something.

“I just need a second,” Patrick said.

David nodded, his lips tucked in between his teeth. He looked as though he was thinking about something until he pulled in a sudden breath and blurted, “I just need to know you’re not leaving me here.”

Patrick blinked. “Leaving you…here?” he repeated. “Why would I leave you here?”

“I don’t know,” David said, “but I just…need to know. That you’re not going to. Leave me here.” With every word he sounded more upset until his chest was heaving and Patrick was fairly sure he was about to cry.

“David,” Patrick said levelly, meeting David’s eyes. He walked closer until he could have rested his hands on David’s shoulders. “I am not leaving you here.”

David’s knees gave way a little and he gasped, a relieved sound suspiciously close to a sob. “You’re not?” he said.

Patrick studied him. “How would I leave you out here?” he said, waving one arm. “How would you get…anywhere?”

David gave a helpless wave, but when he opened his mouth only a sob escaped, and he ducked, hiding his face. Without thinking Patrick stepped forward, catching David before he could fall. He could feel David’s chest heaving under his hands as they pressed across his back. Patrick had to brace against David’s weight; he was heavier more than Patrick expected. For a few seconds it was all he could do to stop David falling, but when they’d go themselves sorted, David’s arms tight around Patrick’s shoulders, Patrick could try and stop his whirling thoughts.

Who the hell would abandon David in the middle of nowhere? I mean, who would do it to anybody, but David in particular? The thought made him angrier than he could remember being in a long time. The look of bewilderment when they stopped had made his heart swell. He couldn’t imagine leaving someone like that, let alone out here. Let alone David.

Never David.

The early morning air was now warmer; the sun had peeked out from behind the cloud cover and Patrick could feel it attempting to warm his shoulders. His breath still puffed out clouds of condensation and the sunlight caught them before they dispersed. If he hadn’t been helping David through his panic Patrick would have admired its beauty. As it was he noted it more as the passing of time than anything else. He didn’t know how long they’d been standing there, but David’s breathing was slower, the sobs of earlier no longer wracking his body.

Patrick closed his eyes. It would take as long as it would take. This was working, and if they needed to stand here until the sun burned from overhead, so be it. His hands were stroking David’s back through his sweater. He needed the long slow slide as much as he thought David might; the last moments had been a rollercoaster, and he’d been starting from an unsettled place to begin. Taking the trip together was important, and Patrick was glad they had both been able to speak with Amanda. She needed to meet David, and Patrick wanted him to realise how good he really was at talking to people, but their conversation last night had brought some things to a head Patrick had been doing a good job of avoiding lately.

As he stood on the gravel, Patrick reflected that no matter how hard two people might avoid each other, they might still end up holding each other by the side of a road in the middle of nowhere.

Something had to give.

And soon.


	11. Chapter 11

Once they’d started on their way again after a murmured, “Thanks,” from David, the silence continued the rest of the way back to Schitt’s Creek. Patrick concentrated on the road; not only were they going to be late to open the store, but there was too much in his head to work through as he drove. Mind perfectly blank, he did nothing but count off the markers telling them how far back to Schitt’s Creek and the store they could run without having to sit beside each other. He just needed to get through this day. One day and he could go for a hike, powering uphill until his lungs and legs burned all the extraneous stuff out of his head and only the truth remained.

He couldn’t keep ignoring whatever was happening between him and David. Not now that David had unintentionally forced Patrick to consider it as part of this decision about the store. There was no separating David from the store; in deciding about one, he would be deciding about the other. It was too complex to choose right now, and so Patrick counted markers. It was a problem for Future Patrick.

When the store was in sight, Patrick controlled his sigh of relief. He pulled his car up in the usual place, and for a few seconds he wondered if David would say anything.

“Coffee?” David said quietly.

“Yes please,” Patrick replied. He turned to look at David, but his face was already turned away to open the car door. A pang of disappointment stabbed Patrick in the heart but he ignored it. They couldn’t have a conversation right now, not with the store waiting to be opened. Besides, Patrick knew he wasn’t thinking clearly. He needed time to get his head right first. Maybe David was in the same position. Either way, as he watched David close the door without meeting his eyes, Patrick knew the timing wasn’t right.

A few hours of paperwork in the office and David only came in once to deliver his coffee. Patrick tried to concentrate, writing out the work lists he’d composed in the first part of their drive that morning. He reconciled the register from the day before, the orderly rows of numbers calming his brain. Coffee helped, but it still took him far longer than normal. He allowed himself to completed the simpler tasks from his list first before he realised it was almost lunch time.

A deep breath – and then another one – helped Patrick take the first step from the office out to the front of the store. David was frowning at something near the register. Patrick’s heart ached for a moment, but he forced himself to continue to walk.

“Hungry?” Patrick asked, keeping his voice light. “We could risk last night’s mac and cheese.”

David glanced up. “Sure,” he said, the word as short as possible. It rang false to Patrick’s ears, but he was hardly one to throw stones about false fronts, not today.

Patrick collected their lunch, but before he could offer to stay, David said, “You must have a lot to do after we were gone. For your other clients.”

“Okay,” Patrick replied uncertainly. David was more defensive than he could remember seeing, and he clearly wanted some space. “Well, I’ll…see you tomorrow?”

“I can do tomorrow,” David said. “I’m sure I can manage another early morning.” He gave a fake smile. “You take a day off from all this.”

Patrick frowned. He wanted to argue, but a customer came in and David turned to greet them. “Okay, see you Friday then,” he said. “I’ll open.”

David had already turned to greet the customer, so Patrick collected his things and headed out to his car.

_He’s probably confused too._

The thought boosted him as he greeted Ray. Much as Patrick thought a hike would help, he was suddenly exhausted. “I’m going to take a nap,” he told Ray. “Long night.”

“I hope your business meeting was successful,” Ray said with a wide grin.

“It was,” Patrick replied. “If anyone calls, I’m not available today, okay?”

“Of course,” Ray said. “I’ll be working on some new designs for my commemorative tea towel collection. I’ll be quiet as a mouse.”

_Like a little mouse._

Patrick swallowed, nodding. He could feel Ray watching as he walked upstairs. Unpacking seemed like a huge task, so instead he pushed off his shoes, hung his pants over a chair and crawled into bed. The overwhelming weight of whatever he wasn’t facing bore down but Patrick closed his eyes.

Tomorrow. He would deal with his life tomorrow.

+++

Of course, Patrick woke as the sun was going down, rested but restless. It was too late to go for a hike, but he wouldn’t be able to sleep again for a good few hours. Ray had cooked and Patrick brought his bowl of chili and cornbread in to watch House Hunters with him.

“This is good,” Patrick said. He must have sounded more impressed than he meant to, because Ray beamed at him.

“I took a course in American Southern cooking,” Ray said. “I was looking to expand Food Glo-Ray-ous Food into new cuisines. Chili is always a popular option. You know it freezes very well and it’s quite versatile.”

Patrick hummed. He’d learned it was the easiest way to deal with Ray’s marketing spiels, which appeared to be automatic. They talked about the House Hunters marathon, Ray giving his professional opinion about every property and expressing his dismay at every couple’s decision. It might not be his first choice for an evening’s entertainment, Patrick reflected a couple of hours later as he rinsed his bowl, but Ray was a good housemate. The extra food would be portioned into the freezer, and he was beaming when Patrick said he was heading upstairs back to bed.

“It was nice to spend some time together,” Ray said. “You and David are always welcome to join me. I’d be happy to cook, it’s good to flex my culinary muscles!”

“Thanks, Ray,” Patrick said. “See you tomorrow.”

“Sleep well,” Ray said cheerily.

Patrick was smiling as he walked up the stairs. It lasted until he closed his bedroom door, sighing as he spied his overnight bag. He’d have a bit of work to catch up on tomorrow, and getting in a hike was a non-negotiable. Unpacking now would be wise, he told himself, beginning the task before he’d even started to complain about it. He started with the pants hanging over his chair. As he picked them up, something heavy dropped out of the upside-down pocket. When he looked under the chair, it was his phone.

A beat of something thrust through his chest. He’d left his phone on silent while he was driving, and couldn’t remember turning it back on, even when they’d returned to the store. Hours and hours since he’d checked it, too. Who might have called? There was only one person he wanted to hear from, yet the idea was terrifying at the same time. As he turned his phone over, the screen lit up and Patrick’s breath caught in his throat.

Nothing.

Nobody had called or texted. Not a single notification in the entire day. Frowning, he sat on the edge of his bed, flicking to the recent calls list. Apart from David, he hadn’t received a single personal call in weeks. The same with text messages; his most recent conversations were David, Amanda (directions to her office), and Ray (did he want chili the night he returned?). Before that, a few customers and vendors, and below that – almost a month ago now – his Mom.

It wasn’t a surprise, but seeing it set out made Patrick realise how much different his life was now than it had been. He missed his family, but not as much as he thought he would. The pace of the small town here was enough, and between the store and the other little bits he was doing, he’d found a work life balance he hadn’t realised was even possible. Not in Toronto.

Impulsively, Patrick scrolled to his contacts and hit ‘call’ before he could think too hard.

“Patrick?”

He swallowed, the voice familiar when it hit. “Hey, Rachel.”

She heard something in his voice, because there was a slight pause before she said, “Hang on,” and obviously moved to settle somewhere. “Hi,” she said again. “I didn’t expect to hear from you.” She laughed. “I expected to be calling you, actually.”

“Really?” Patrick said. “What for?”

“Ah, it’s your birthday in three days?” she said. “Please don’t tell me you’d forgotten.”

“Oh, of course not,” he replied. “Just didn’t realise you’d call.”

Rachel’s voice softened. “Of course I would, Patrick,” she said. There was a short pause before she said, “Okay, well tell me everything.”

“Everything?” Patrick repeated. “That’s a lot. It’s been a while.”

He could practically hear Rachel shrug; her mannerisms were as familiar to him as his own. “Well, tell me one thing, then.”

Patrick was silent, trying to think of anything other than _David._

Rachel sighed theatrically. “You’re working, right? Tell me about the person you’re working with the most.”

Patrick swallowed. “His name’s David,” he said.

“Okay,” Rachel said. “Tell me about David.”

Patrick closed his eyes. “He owns the general store,” he said, and the not-quite-accurate description was enough to get him started. Rachel listened as he explained how they’d met, why he’d been in the bar in the first place, how surprised he’d been when David came to find him weeks later.

“He sounds like a handful,” she remarked when he explained how David’s attempts to organise his office had ended up.

“He is,” Patrick said. “But in a kind of endearing way, you know?”

“Yes,” Rachel said, her voice heavy with amusement, “I do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Patrick asked.

“Have a look at how long this call’s been going,” Rachel said.

Patrick did, not entirely sure why he was doing it.

_22:07….22:08…22:09…_

“Okay,” he said, not getting it.

“You’ve spent twenty minutes telling me about David,” Rachel said. “I know a bit about his business, and some of what you’re planning for the future, but mostly I know how David likes his coffee, his favourite combination of wine and cheese, and I could probably draw his eyebrows right now.”

Patrick froze. When he could move, he said, “So?”

Rachel snorted. That had been something he’d loved about her; she never let him bullshit his way out of anything.

“Patrick,” she said, and she was using her ‘I’m being patient with you’ voice, “have you given any more thought to what I said in our last conversation?”

Patrick winced. He’d hoped she wouldn’t bring that up. “How is your girlfriend, by the way?” he asked pointedly.

“She’s fine,” Rachel said. “More than fine, if you remember.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Patrick said. “As I recall, we were fine. She showed you ‘fine’ is not a good description for a healthy relationship.”

“Exactly,” Rachel said. There was another pause. “I’m still sorry, Patrick,” she said quietly. “I didn’t want to crowd you. But I’ve been wondering how you’re doing.”

Patrick sighed. “You really want to know?” he asked.

“Why else would you call?” she asked.

“I have no idea why I called you,” Patrick said.

“I’m going to bet it’s something to do with David,” Rachel said. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I have no idea,” Patrick said, aware he was repeating himself. “We drove to Toronto yesterday for a business meeting.”

“To Toronto?” Rachel repeated. “How far is that?”

“Too far for one day,” Patrick told her. “Two nights, and we got back early this morning.”

“Okay,” Rachel said. “So what happened?”

“The meeting was fine,” Patrick said. He took a deep breath. “David wants me to stay.”

“He wants you to stay,” Rachel repeated. “As in, he wants you to work for him? Or,” she hesitated, and Patrick could feel her chose her words, “he wants you to stay for another reason?”

“He wants me to be part of the business,” Patrick said. “I don’t know exactly what that means. But,” he stopped.

“It’s more complicated than just the business,” Rachel said quietly.

“Yeah,” Patrick whispered. This was why he’d called Rachel. He didn’t even need to finish his sentences with her. Not even the scary ones. “What if you were right?”

Rachel was quiet. “Do you remember that conversation?”

“Every word,” Patrick replied. “I thought it was going to be the same as it had always been.”

“I know,” Rachel said, and the regret lay heavily in her voice. “But I told you I’d done something different.”

“Harmony took you out for a drink,” Patrick said. Patrick had never gotten along super well with Rachel’s sister; he wondered if she’d seen something in Rachel neither of them had noticed.

“And I met Emma,” Rachel continued.

Patrick was quiet, remembering how confused he’d been at the new direction of their conversation. They never talked about what happened when they were separated; it was like neither wanted to admit anything might have changed things.

“You said she made you understand the songs,” Patrick said. He’d still been confused at that point.

“Yeah,” Rachel said.

“Does she still?” Patrick asked.

“Yeah,” Rachel said. “Different songs now, but still…stuff makes sense with her.”

“Things that didn’t make sense with me,” Patrick said.

“I didn’t say it to hurt you,” Rachel told him.

“I know,” Patrick said, and he did know. “But it still hurt.”

“I know,” Rachel whispered, and they breathed together for a second. “And I said…do you remember the next thing?”

“Clearer than anything,” Patrick replied.

_If you really don’t know what I mean, maybe you should…explore. Because I didn’t even know it was possible to feel like this, Patrick. And if anyone deserves this it’s you._

“Do you think…”

He could hear the hesitation in her voice.

“David,” Patrick whispered. He swallowed, closing his eyes as he forced words past the fear collected in his throat. “I think maybe…but I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Rachel said. “Do you know his preferences? I mean, for dating? I’m assuming he’s single?”

“He is,” Patrick said. “I know he has…he does date men. I mean, he has.”

“So do you think he might be interested?” Rachel asked.

“I don’t know,” Patrick groaned, and Rachel’s laugh somehow eased the awkwardness of this whole conversation. It was Rachel he was talking to. Nobody on the planet knew him as well, not even Patrick himself apparently.

“Well, do you think you’re interested in him?” Rachel asked.

Patrick bit back his immediate response. He thought about David, about how he might greet Patrick when he arrived in the store if they were together.

_David’s eyes meet his warmly as he came through the door. The thrill of his hand on Patrick’s hip, eyes watching until the last possible moment when their lips met, chaste and warm._

_“Good morning,” David murmured, his words warm against Patrick’s skin._

Patrick swallowed. He wasn’t even considering how things might progress when they were alone. Flashes had occurred to him, mostly skin and warmth, rough fingers and coarse hair more similar to his own than anything he’d experienced in real life. The pulse low in his abdomen was echoed in his groin and he shifted, the unfamiliar ache still tantalising.

_I want that._

“Patrick?” Rachel’s voice was soft in his ear. “You don’t have to say the words. But I can hear it in your voice. The way you talk about David, that’s how I talk about Emma.” She drew a deep breath. “And you and I, we never had that.”

“We didn’t, did we?” Patrick whispered.

“No,” Rachel said.

The regret sat between them, a silent chasm. It hurt to admit the truth, but there was relief, too.

“I think…I might want that with David,” Patrick said. “If he…I have no idea if he…and we work together…Jesus, Rach.”

“Yep,” Rachel said, the amusement back. “Sounds like we did a pretty good job for a pair of same-sex attracted people in a straight relationship.”

“Is that what it’s called?” Patrick said. He hadn’t thought about what he’d call himself. Did he have to pick a word, or a term or something? He should know what all the labels were before he made a choice. Perhaps a spreadsheet would help…

“You don’t have to pick a label,” Rachel said, and she could still pull him out of his head with a single sentence. “I mean, you can if you want.” Her voice changed again, the teasing tone so familiar to Patrick. “I’m sure there’s some kind of spreadsheet you could make.”

“Hey,” Patrick said. “I’ve never met a spreadsheet I didn’t like.”

“I know,” Rachel said, affection flowing through the line. “So, are you going to talk to David?”

“I’ll have to,” Patrick said. His mood dropped as the reality of the situation. “I can’t make a choice about the store without knowing…” His sentence trailed off.

“You could,” Rachel said. “You could each date other people.” She paused significantly. “I mean, you could work with David without dating him, right?”

The idea sent a shot of pain through Patrick’s chest. “No,” he whispered. The lump in his throat shifted enough when he cleared his throat for him to say, “I couldn’t…I couldn’t do that.”

“Well that answers that question,” Rachel said. “If you couldn’t work with him without dating him, you’ll have to talk to him.”

Patrick blinked. “I hate when you do that,” he told her, ignoring her laughter.

“No you don’t,” Rachel said. “Because now you can’t talk yourself out of it.”

“Yes, that’s why I hate it,” Patrick replied. He sighed. “And you’re alright?”

“Yeah,” Rachel replied. “I’m happy. And you could be too, Patrick.”

“Yeah,” Patrick said. He sighed. “I should get to bed,” he said.

“Big day tomorrow?” Rachel asked with a grin.

“Something like that,” Patrick replied. “Thanks, Rach.”

“Anytime,” she said. “Goodnight, Patrick.”

“’Night,” he said.


	12. Chapter 12

_I think we need to talk. Friday night?_

Patrick had agonised over how exactly to phrase his text until he was finally so sick of himself he marched over, picked up his phone and just sent it. The regret was immediate, of course, but there was nothing to be done. David wouldn’t see the message for hours anyway. The sun was barely up, but Patrick was ready for an early hike before he came home to tackle the work he’d missed in the last couple of days. Or longer, he admitted as he pushed up the last steep section of his hike. His usual high standards had slipped when David had taken up so much of his attention, and he really did need to maintain a semi-decent sense of professionalism.

But this hike was to help him work out the next step after his conversation with Rachel. Having finally pushed him to admit he was interested in dating David, Rachel had neatly left him on his own with the most difficult part. Working out how to broach the subject with David was easily the most intimidating idea he’d ever had in his life, yet Patrick knew there was no way around it. If he left Schitt’s Creek, David would want a solid reason; if he stayed, there was no way he could leave things unresolved. Even if David wasn’t interested in Patrick (a completely likely scenario, in Patrick’s mind), they could hopefully figure out a way to work together.

By the time Patrick was done with his hike, home and ready to work, he was still no closer to a solution. Determined to get some paying work done, he put it out of his mind as best he could. Either something would come to him or he’d wing it. Besides, he was still waiting to hear from David. Patrick had left his phone at home on purpose, but there was nothing waiting when he returned. The store would be open by now and David would certainly have checked his phone, yet Patrick’s questions still sat unanswered.

_Forget it. Do some work._

Resolutely turning his phone over, Patrick pulled his in-tray closer.

+++

By the time the sun was dropping below the horizon, Patrick was basically up to date. He’d even managed a few phone calls, touching base with a few of his clients. It was important to make people feel as though they were valued, and talking to other people helped him focus on what he was doing. Nobody had any complaints which was a relief, but there were a few things to chase up. Along with the paperwork waiting and some spreadsheets, there was plenty to do. Overall it was a productive afternoon, and he would have nothing pressing until Monday.

Yet not a sound from David.

Deciding to call it a night, Patrick stretched and removed his headphones. He’d finally trained Ray to leave him alone when he was wearing them; it stopped endless conversation about the subconscious meaning of blue versus purple in a logo, or how viable the idea of an on-call wardrobe consultant would be in the area. Today he might have welcomed the distraction, but Patrick had to admit his productivity was high so it had been worth the effort.

A visit to the bathroom, and Patrick realised it was very quiet in their house, especially for this time of the evening. A quick check led him to the kitchen, where he found Ray’s note on the table.

_Patrick,_

_I didn’t want to interrupt you while you were wearing your headphones. I’ve been called to chair an emergency meeting of the Greater Elms Entrepreneur Support Association in Elm Glen. We’re slated for Saturday and Sunday but I have booked a networking breakfast meeting tomorrow! A wonderful opportunity._

_Help yourself to meals in the freezer._

_See you Monday morning!_

_Ray_

Patrick shrugged. At least Ray knew the deal with the headphones. It was always hard to tell when things were a fluke or if he actually took Patrick’s requests on board. And he’d have the house to himself for a couple of days. Patrick defrosted some chili, catching the end of a baseball game before admitting how tired he really was. His sleep was still pretty messed up, and he should go to bed early since he was opening at the store tomorrow. Pushing thoughts of seeing David out of his mind, Patrick cleaned up his dishes and picked up his phone, glancing at the screen out of habit.

Three voice messages from David.

 _Voice_ messages?

Patrick sat down in the kitchen chair, bringing the phone to his ear with something approaching trepidation.

“Hi David, it’s Patrick,” David’s voice said, somehow more relaxed and smoother than usual. “Wait…I think I called you David. And me Patrick.” The phone moved away but Patrick could hear David mutter, “Fuck,” in the background before the call ended.

The second call wasn’t much better.

“Hi…Patrick. It’s…I’m David.” A pause, David breathing heavily. “We should talk on Friday. I did get your message, I’ve been thinking about how to reply. We definitely should talk. But we’ll see each other on Friday…tomorrow. Friday’s tomorrow.” His voice changed, drifting away as he mused, “Is Friday tomorrow?”

The call ended.

Finally, a third call, also from David’s number. This time, the brisk voice of Stevie was there instead.

“Hi Patrick, this is Stevie. David’s not feeling great, so he’s not going to make it into work tomorrow. If you could man the store he’d be very grateful.” Some kind of scuffle in the background, ending in what Patrick was sure sounded like David groaning. “Oh, but he’ll meet you after work at your place. ‘Kay, bye!”

Patrick was grinning as he put his phone down. Was David drunk? Or high, maybe? Either way, he must have gone right home and taken something. David’s words echoed back to Patrick.

_I plan on popping a pill, crying a little, and going to sleep early._

Patrick’s grin faded. Was that what David had done? Or perhaps not a pill specifically, but either way he was _not_ sober when he made those calls, and from the sound of it, Stevie was covering for him. Amusing though the first two calls had been, Patrick couldn’t push down the image of David at the store today, pasting on his customer service smile when someone came in. He could see anxious David standing behind the counter, arms wrapped around himself, turning his rings as his brow furrowed and he wondered how to reply to Patrick. From the little David had ever said, he knew self-medicating was a bad decision, and Patrick hated the idea of causing David the kind of pain that would lead him to that choice.

But he was going to meet Patrick here tomorrow night.

And Ray wouldn’t be home.

_Is that a date, then?_

Patrick swallowed, suddenly more nervous than he could ever remember being. Was this what Rachel was talking about? This burning need to be close to David, mixed with the most intense dread he could imagine? It was certainly not anything he’d ever experienced. Before now he would have pushed such an intense reaction away, but he knew there was no choice. With a deep breath, Patrick stopped fighting himself and intentionally thought about David.

He pictured David’s surprise the first time he brought him a coffee. He was pleased; it made Patrick feel good. The familiar warm amusement swirled through his body at David’s words.

_I’m quite selective about what I put into my body._

Oh.

He’d forgotten the next part.

Where his mind offered an alternative meaning. Not _I’m picky about my coffee_ , but something more intimate.

Where Patrick’s mouth had gone dry, his mind offline for a second, and…the other thing. The swirl low in his belly, deep and urgent as it throbbed outwards into his cock.

Patrick swallowed, grateful Ray was out. He could feel it again, as he confronted what he’d brushed aside at the time. David, talking about _what I put into my body_ , elicited a reaction stronger than Patrick could remember. He swallowed, naming it.

David turned him on.

Hesitantly, Patrick shifted his hand from the table, resting it on his thigh, not confident enough to move it where he really wanted the pressure. When he jerked off it was always the same – mind blank, maybe concentrating on chasing the feeling he knew would lead him to orgasm, wanting the relief that came after. It always took some time, and apart from a morning glory, he rarely started with a full erection.

This time a single thought of David had gotten him most of the way there.

_Gonna need more privacy._

Regardless of whether Ray was out Patrick wasn’t going to do this in the kitchen of his share house. Grabbing his phone he stumbled upstairs, wincing at the awkwardness in his briefs as he walked. Bedroom door shut was a given, and he fumbled to get his shoes and socks and pants off, hesitating before stripping off everything else. If he was going to do this – and his elevated heartrate told him it was as terrifying as it was exciting – he might as well do it properly.

Breathing hard, Patrick closed his eyes for a second. He was aware of his skin, oversensitive to the brush of air as he walked the three steps across to his bed. The bedspread shoved aside he sat against the headboard, tilting his head back and inviting his imagination to create the moments he’d been too afraid to confront.

David, wrapping his arms around Patrick, face pressing into Patrick’s neck. Patrick gasped, trailing his fingers up his neck, imagining David’s mouth exploring. His other hand was resting on his stomach, but he drifted it higher, the shirt in his imagination melting away as David’s mouth pressed lower, his tongue tracing the shape of Patrick’s nipple. He didn’t think, dipping his finger into his mouth, the wetness against his nipple pulling a groan from his throat. His cock throbbed again and Patrick gasped again, half sitting up at the powerful pull in his groin.

_Jesus._

Patrick opened his eyes. He’d have to slow this down. That had never been a problem; to be fair, he’d never been this turned on at the very thought of someone before. Taking a deep breath, he rewound the scenario in his head, one hand resting on the bed, the other squeezing the base of his cock enough to take the edge off. This time he lingered on the details. David coming over one Friday night, a genuine date night with Ray nowhere to be found. Cooking together, the chat as they waited for a lasagne interspersed with kisses. David would taste like coffee and sugar; his mouth would be soft, his stubble rough against Patrick’s lips.

He would make delicious sounds. Patrick’s mind pulled the sounds David had made tasting the lasagne, and they worked damned well in this new context. He felt his body yearning for more stimulation and risked it, slowly stroking himself as he skipped past dinner in his mind. They’d eat, eyes meeting for long slow looks over the meal, the promise of _later_ in the air. Neither bothered with the dishes, instead coming together as soon as their forks clattered into the sink. Even in his imagination, the need to be close to David was overwhelming. Patrick could barely imagine being allowed to crowd close and kiss David, or press him into the door, their hips aligning.

“Jesus,” Patrick gasped. He squeezed his cock, holding off the wave of arousal when he realised there would be a matching hardness in David’s briefs, assuming he felt the same as Patrick.

In Patrick’s head, he absolutely did. He grabbed Patrick, pulling his hips closer, their kissing deeper as he made it very clear how much Patrick was turning him on. Stubble rough on his cheeks, strong fingers digging into his hips, David’s erection sliding against his own…

Patrick grunted, sitting up, his abdominal muscles clenching tight as he came hard, body exploding without warning at the sensation of _David_ all over his body. He could feel sticky wetness as his cock pulsed. His hand jerked, spreading come over his cock, another spike of desire as his fingers curled around the sensitive head, one last spurt of come joining the rest of the mess across his hand and thighs.

Exhausted, he slumped back, breathing hard, every part of his body singing.

_Jesus._

He’d never come like that before. Never so hard, and never so easily, without having to chase it; instead he felt a little blindsided by how powerfully he’d reacted to the scenario in his head. Even as he breathed hard, resting his softening cock on his thigh and his messy hand on his belly, Patrick reflected that regardless of what word he wanted to use, he was a same-sex attracted person. And even if all he got out of it was allowing himself fantasies like that one, he was in.

With a shake of his head, Patrick sat up, wrinkling his nose. At least he’d avoided the sheets. Grateful again for Ray’s absence, Patrick headed into the bathroom. His mind was warring between an exaggerated version of the calm he always felt after an orgasm and still thinking about David. As he waited for the water to warm properly, Patrick ran his hands down his stomach and across the top of his thigh, washing most of the come from his skin.

When his fingers passed the edges of his pubic hair, Patrick was surprised to feel his cock twitch. Water running down his chest, Patrick paused. The next part of his fantasy flashed and his body responded again. Before he realised it, Patrick’s fingers were curling around his cock again, the feel of it swelling arousing in itself.

_Would David feel like this?_

Patrick groaned. David’s hands were bigger; his hand would cover more of Patrick’s cock. He wondered if they would both fit in this shower, water sloshing between their bodies. It was a big leap from earlier. Patrick’s fist was working over his cock now, but it wasn’t as urgent as last time. He could picture David’s wide shoulders; he was taller than Patrick, and a shot of arousal coursed through him as he realised he would be dwarfed by David’s size. Used to being taller, it was odd to picture himself turning his face up to be kissed, but Patrick liked it. David could crowd him. Encroach on his space, make him feel small. Surrounded, protected…ideas worked through Patrick’s head, attractive and fuelling the new scenario in his head. Patrick pressed his back against the tiles, lifting his chin, imagining David blocking the spray. His hand was moving faster now and he felt David’s tongue against his, kissing him deeply, insistent in a way Patrick had never expressed. Somehow, in Patrick’s mind, David was also talking; describing how Patrick made him feel, how he wanted to explore, where he wanted Patrick to touch him. It was freeing, thinking about the kind of sex Patrick had never thought he would want. Hearing someone talk about how much they wanted him. Feeling their body seek the same closeness he was searching for.

The kind of sex, it turned out, that he desperately wanted.

The David in Patrick’s head kissed him hard again. His free hand ran down Patrick’s body; Patrick’s hand traced the path, feeling the same receptors fire in real life as in his mind. David’s fingers cupped Patrick’s balls, tugging not-quite-gently and the groan was harsh in his throat; he’d always loved rougher play but never had the courage to ask. Had he ever really asked for what he wanted in bed? Now was hardly the time, but a flash of understanding – that Rachel could never have provided him this, even if he’d asked – and Patrick felt the freedom again. This wasn’t about asking Rachel or not, it was about finally realising it was what he wanted in the first place.

David’s hand wrapped around his cock.

David’s tongue in his mouth, panting desperately filthy words of encouragement.

David’s fingers tugging at his balls.

With a shout, Patrick came, arching back against the wall of the shower as the David in his mind praised him.

_Jesus Christ._

It looked like there really was only one option for tomorrow night.

Patrick just had to hope the real David was half as interested as the David in his head.


	13. Chapter 13

It took most of Patrick’s concentration to run the shop effectively on Friday. Distracted, he forgot to tell the barista at the Café he didn’t need David’s order, so he ended up stress eating the extra muffins and making the poor decision to drink both his own coffee and David’s.

By midday, he was buzzing. His brain was skittering all over the place, but the shop was fully stocked, the floor was swept, windows cleaned, and he’d mocked up some options for advertising both the open mic night and the tours. He’d analysed the sales data from the last few weeks and there was a statistically significant upturn in their sales, even taking out the sales from the tasting nights. Along with the grants, their cash flow was much better, and Patrick was confident things were stable.

He made some notes to ask David about a few things, but staring at the list, a doubt flared in his mind. Would he even have the opportunity to have this conversation? Depending on how David reacted to what Patrick wanted to say that evening…

But he couldn’t finish that thought. Patrick kept his mind on the store as he was working, ignoring the flashes of panic when they came up. Most of his interactions with the customers pulled him out of his head, and Patrick could feel his smile wide enough to hurt his cheeks as he focussed on their questions. It was exhausting. David’s coffee and muffins were a blessing in the end, the sugar and caffeine buoying him through a steady period in the middle of the day where he wouldn’t have been able to go and get lunch anyway.

When the bell tinkled around four o’clock, Patrick popped out of the storeroom where he’d been double checking the box labelling, his customer service smile firmly in place. It faltered a second and he felt the hitch in his step before he reached the counter.

“Hi Stevie,” he said. “Welcome to-”

“Yeah, hi Patrick,” she said, brushing off his greeting. She glanced around. “Anyone else here?”

“Nope,” Patrick said. He frowned. “Why?”

She studied him for a second. “We need to talk about David.”

Patrick’s heart lurched. He swallowed. “I’ll put up the sign.”

She nodded, waiting until he’d grabbed the ‘back in fifteen minutes’ sign David had scrawled recently, propping it on the door and turning the lock.

“Okay,” he said.

Stevie crossed her arms. Patrick didn’t know her all that well, but he could read her unimpressed body language. “David got high last night,” she told him.

“I figured he wasn’t entirely sober when he called,” Patrick replied.

“He got high, on his own,” Stevie said, looking at him as thought that should be significant.

“Okay,” Patrick repeated, still waiting for the penny to drop. Stevie was still staring at him as though he was missing something significant. “Why don’t you pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about?” he said.

She rolled her eyes, but took a deep breath, obviously condensing something in her head. “David does not have a good history with self-medicating,” she said. “Basically if he’s getting high on his own, something’s bad.” When Patrick didn’t reply, she added, “What the hell happened on that trip, Patrick?”

“I have no idea!” he retorted. “I mean, some things happened, but nothing…”

“Well something happened,” she cut across him. “Because he told me he volunteered to get up early and open the shop yesterday, which is unheard of, and then he came home last night, helped himself to my stash of weed and proceeded to get wasted. On his own, in the honeymoon suite, for chrissakes.”

Patrick blinked. What exactly was he supposed to say? “We drove to Toronto, we had our meeting with Amanda, which went really well, then we drove back,” he said. “There was a weird conversation Tuesday night. David asked me to join his business. That’s what we need to talk about tonight.”

“David asked you to join his business?” Stevie repeated. Her whole body betrayed her shock at the news. “That…that is not nothing.”

“Yes,” Patrick said, distracted, “but the main thing…I mean, it wasn’t a thing, I don’t know exactly what happened, really…”

“Tell me,” Stevie said. Patrick blinked at her. “Tell me,” she insisted. “Look, David’s panicking pretty hard right now and I told him I would come and find out what you wanted to talk to him about.”

“I don’t know what happened,” Patrick said. “We were driving, but it was early so David was sleeping, but he had a bad dream or something and called out so I braked hard. I needed some air so I stepped out and he was worried…” Patrick’s voice trailed off as he realised what might be going on. “He was worried I was going to leave him there.”

“What, on the side of the road?” Stevie asked.

“In the middle of nowhere,” Patrick confirmed. “I got the impression it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Right,” Stevie muttered.

“He was pretty upset,” Patrick added.

Stevie looked at him. “Did you kiss him?”

“What? No!” Patrick said.

“But you hugged him,” Stevie said. “He said he was crying.”

“Yeah,” Patrick said. “What?!” he added, when she rolled her eyes at him. “I couldn’t just leave him there crying!”

Stevie sighed, crossing her arms again. “Well now David’s worried you’re going to leave him here with the store he doesn’t think he can manage on his own.”

Patrick stared. “I’m not,” he said.

“Good,” Stevie said, “but I don’t think that’s even the main issue.”

Patrick’s heart heaved. “What is?” he asked, forcing the words out.

She raised her eyebrows. “You really don’t know?”

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Patrick said. “Especially with David.” He swallowed. “That’s why we need to talk.”

“But not just about the business,” Stevie pressed. When Patrick opened his mouth to protest, she went on. “Oh come on, Patrick, you and I both know whatever is going on here, it’s not actually about the store.”

Patrick blinked at her.

“Fine,” she said, throwing her hands up. “We can do this the hard way.” She stared at him. “If David wanted to sell you the store, would you want it?”

“No,” Patrick said, starting to qualify his response, but Stevie held up one hand, obviously not prepared for more than a yes/no answer.

“And if David wanted you to go and open a new branch of the store somewhere else, would you go?”

Patrick opened his mouth, then considered his answer. “There are a lot of variables,” he said, “but probably not.”

“And if there was no store, but David wanted you to stay in town, would you stay?”

“Again with the variables,” he said, “but…probably.”

Stevie tilted her head. “Right,” Stevie said. “And if I told you David and I slept together, what would you say?”

“You slept together?” Patrick squawked, standing up. He could feel the shock on his face, though it was quickly chased through his body by dismay and disappointment, anger…a whole slew of emotions that faded when he saw the satisfied look on her face.

“It was months ago, before you even got here,” Stevie said. “But my point stands.”

“And what point is that?” Patrick said. This conversation was harder to follow than the first time he met David. Stevie was a lot like Rachel, leading their conversations to force Patrick to face stuff, but she was far blunter. Right now it was confronting, but Patrick could see she was fiercely protective of David.

“That this,” she waved one hand around, “has way more to do with you and David than it does with the store.”

Patrick stared at her. “Why are you here again?” he asked.

“David,” she said. “Why are either of us still here, Patrick?”

He was still staring, speechless, as she stepped closer. “Don’t fuck it up,” she said quietly. He couldn’t tell if there was a threat implied but either way she walked over to the door, letting herself out and leaving Patrick standing in the store, his still caffeinated brain whirring with Stevie’s words.

+++

The last two hours crept by, and Patrick was watching the clock as it inched closer to closing time. He locked the door exactly on time, most of the closing tasks already done. Reconciling the register took as long as it always did, but he was heading out by twenty past six.

“Patrick!”

A voice behind him jolted his awareness, and Patrick finished locking the door before he turned. It wasn’t David, but he recognised Johnny Rose.

“Mister Rose,” he said with a smile. Now wasn’t the time to stop and chat, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be rude enough to leave.

“David told me about your coup,” he said, his grin wide as he offered his hand to Patrick. “We’d love to hear more about your plans for the store.” He was still beaming, shaking Patrick’s hand, his other hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “Won’t you join us, we’re about to grab a bite at the Café?”

“Ah,” Patrick said, “I’m actually about to meet David…”

“Oh no, David’s with us at the Café,” Johnny said. “When we saw him this afternoon, we just had to talk to both of you together!”

Patrick swallowed. “David’s at the Café?” he said. That did solve one of his problems – he didn’t have any food, unless the frozen chili counted – but on the other hand, dinner with the Rose family hardly sounded like the right thing to do before he and David had spoken properly.

Johnny must have sensed his hesitation because he leaned in. “They do a very good calamari, and tonight’s pumpkin soup night.”

Patrick forced a smile onto his face. “How could I resist?” he said.

Johnny grinned and they crossed the street together, Patrick’s feet requiring a lot of effort to keep moving. He knew the Roses a little bit, of course. Well, they’d met, mostly at the store where David’s sister and mother seemed to think of it as their own private storehouse, rarely paying for whatever they fancied. Patrick met Johnny Rose on the first tasting night. He was impressed with the idea, working the room on David’s behalf, though Patrick wasn’t sure it was strictly necessary.

Now, it seemed, they would all be getting to know each other over a meal at the Café. Not awkward at all, Patrick thought, smiling reflexively as Johnny held the door open with a flourish.

“Patrick!”

Someone trilled his voice from the farthest booth. Patrick nodded, waving one hand. It was hardly busy, of course, but David’s mother was nothing if not dramatic. She was wearing something sparkly, and her wig was black and tightly curled. Opposite her sat David, and Patrick’s heart sank when David didn’t turn around.

“Hi,” Patrick said when he got close. He smiled at Mrs. Rose, then turned to David, bracing himself. “Hi, David.”

“Patrick,” David said, his eyes not quite meeting Patrick’s before they slid to his father. “I told you this isn’t necessary.”

“Nonsense,” Johnny said, sliding neatly in beside his son. Patrick followed suit, sitting beside Mrs. Rose. It meant he had a clear view of David across the table. His pained expression made Patrick quickly reassess his admittedly sarcastic description of this as not awkward at all.

It was even more awkward than he could have imagined.

Johnny tried hard to pull everyone into conversation, and Patrick did his best to answer, though David was reluctant to do more than defer compliments or agree. Patrick could see Mrs. Rose looking concerned about David, but her contributions were largely limited to reminiscences about her time playing in _The Little Shop of Horrors_ , an analogy Patrick couldn’t quite see. Twyla was her usual bright self but when David decided not to order, claiming he wasn’t hungry, Patrick drew the line.

_Since when is David not hungry?_

“I’m sorry, Mr. Rose,” Patrick said, flicking his eyes to him but still largely focussing on David, “but David and I can’t answer any more questions about the store right now.” He flashed a smile at Mrs. Rose. “We have a lot to discuss. Decisions to be made before we can talk about the specifics. I’m sure you understand?”

“Oh, sure, sure,” Mr. Rose replied, glancing from Patrick to his son. “Come on, Moira, we’ll leave these two-”  
“No, Dad, we’ll go,” David said suddenly, shooing his father out of the booth so he could climb out. “I’ll see you later at the motel.”

Neither of David’s parents responded fast enough for Patrick to hear; he was following David out of the Café, relief propelling him fast enough for his second gasped breath to be outside in the evening air.

“What-” he started, but David had already started walking. “Wait!”

“Did you drive this morning?” David asked.

“What?” Patrick said.

“Did you drive or are we walking to your place?” David asked. He stopped, turning to Patrick. “I need to get as far from my parents as possible, and I’m assuming you arranged a meal. So, how are we getting to your place?”

“We’re not,” Patrick said, sudden inspiration striking. “Come on.”

The drive to Elmdale was fairly uncomfortable, but Patrick didn’t try to break the silence. He could feel the discomfort rolling off David, but he also knew this was a good idea.

When they pulled into the carpark, Patrick turned off the car but made no effort to get out. He took a deep breath and glanced at David.

“I thought you might like this better than Ray’s chili,” Patrick said, “which is all I have to offer at my place.”

David was staring out the windscreen at the Italian restaurant he’d wanted to visit last time they’d driven out here together. His face was slowly changing, but Patrick couldn’t tell – between the half-light and the fact he was in profile – what was going on.

“I hope they’re not closed,” he said finally.

“If they are we can raid the store’s fridge,” Patrick said.

David pressed his lips together, but he unbuckled and opened his door.

Patrick let out a breath. Okay. They were eating here, then.

The restaurant was open, thank goodness, and although they were busy, David greeting the hostess by name helped them get a tiny booth in the corner without waiting.

“You come here a lot?” Patrick asked.

“No,” David replied, already reading the menu like it was the holy grail, “but I’ve visited the region of Italy the hostess is from, and we talk about food.”

“You talk about food with the hostess?” Patrick repeated.

David shrugged. “I’m good with people,” he said.

Patrick nodded. That much he believed. “Well, I’m glad you are,” he said.

When David looked up, his eyes widened for a second. Patrick frowned, then his heart lurched. David had forgotten how things were between them for that few seconds of conversation but when he looked up, he remembered.

And so here they were.

When the waitress came past, David smiled at her, greeting her in Italian. Their conversation was short before they switched back to English, but Patrick could see how she lit up at David’s attention.

“What do you suggest?” Patrick asked David. He hadn’t so much as looked at the menu; he’d been watching David. Animated and invested in the conversation with the waitress about the daily special and which kind of wine would pair well with it, he was captivating.

“You want me to order for you?” David asked.

“You’re the expert,” Patrick replied.

David nodded, speaking to the waitress again before she took their menus, smiling at each of them.

“So,” David said, drawing a deep breath as he straightened his cutlery. “I apologise for my parents before.” He winced. “My father would not be put off when I told him we were going to be talking about the business tonight.”

“It’s fine,” Patrick said. “It’s great they’re so interested in your store.”

David shrugged, and Patrick could see he didn’t agree. Fair enough. Dealing with your own family was different than seeing it from the outside.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet me tonight,” Patrick said.

“Of course,” David replied.

They sat in awkward silence while their wine was poured, neither speaking until the waitress had gone again.

“I wanted to talk about two things,” Patrick said. “They’re kind of related, but I thought we could start with the store.”

“Okay,” David said. He was sitting up very straight. Nervous, but not in the same way as Patrick had seen before. He was twisting his rings, but as Patrick noticed he stopped, pressing his hands flat into the table.

“I’d really like to stay,” Patrick blurted. He saw David sag a little, then sit up again, face guarded.

“But?” David managed.

Patrick frowned. “No ‘but’,” he replied. “I need more information, and we will definitely need to sign a contract this time.”

“You…you’re going to stay?” David whispered.

Patrick nodded, the words so much simpler now he’d spoken them. “Your store is amazing,” he said. “And there is so much potential for growth, not just in Schitt’s Creek.” He took a deep breath. “So maybe we could talk about exactly how you thought I’d fit in, from a business point of view.”

David blinked, then drank some wine. “I have no idea,” he admitted. “I just…wanted you to stay and help me run it. Like you have been doing.”

Patrick nodded, watching David’s whole posture relax. There was so much there to ask David, but he was determined to talk about the business first. If nothing else, the drive back to Schitt’s Creek would be excruciating if there was anything that might mean the deal went south.

“Well there are a few options,” Patrick said, “each with their own pros and cons.”

“Maybe you should just show me the spreadsheet,” David suggested.

Patrick opened his mouth, confused before he saw the slight smile tugging on David’s lips. “Right,” he said. “Well the jokes on you, I have two spreadsheets.”

“Oh,” David said, his smile more open now. “Well, maybe a verbal summary would be better.”

Patrick relaxed a little more. If David was prepared to needle him a little, they might be okay, at least for the next while. He started to explain the options to David, pausing when their food arrived, then resuming. David was listening intently as he ate, asking several questions that made it clear he’d been paying closer attention than he thought when Patrick prattled on about good business practices.

Somehow Patrick managed to time the end of their conversation to match the end of their meal. Their plates were empty when he said, “So, that’s my assessment. We’d have to do some numbers, but in a broad sense,” he shrugged.

David nodded, drinking the last of his wine. “What do you want to do?” he asked.

Patrick had assumed David would have dictated the option he wanted. “What?” he replied.

“What do you want to do?” David repeated. “I understand the options, and they all sound reasonable to me.” He shrugged, looking down at his plate. “So I think the question is, which one do you want to do?”

Patrick blinked. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” he said.

“Wait, you came here with all the options but you don’t know which one you want?” David said.

“No,” Patrick said. “I was thinking you’d know what you wanted. I didn’t think you’d ask me to choose.”

“Why wouldn’t I ask you to choose?” David said, raising his eyebrows. “I mean, we’re talking about a big decision here.”

Patrick shrugged. “It’s your business I’d be joining,” he said. “You get more of a say.”

“What if I don’t want more of a say?” David replied. “I just want you to stay. And be part of the business, obviously. In whatever way you want.”

Patrick nodded. His heart was beating fast again as he considered. “I’ll have to see the numbers, but I’d like to buy into the business. As much…as much as I can afford.”

David didn’t speak, his eyes asking something Patrick couldn’t quite decipher. Finally, he nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Patrick repeated. They would still have to talk, of course, and there was no way he'd buy out a controlling share, but from the sound of it David was prepared to sell him a reasonable share of the store.

_Holy shit._

“Are we really doing this?” David said quietly.

Patrick swallowed. “If you want to,” he said.

“Yeah,” David said, “yes.”

The waitress reappeared, and a wave of nerves rolled over Patrick as he realised the first part of their conversation was done. Which only left the second half.


	14. Chapter 14

Patrick watched as their dirty plates were cleared, head pounding. He didn’t want to do this here, he realised; they needed something different.

“Let’s get that tiramisu for dessert,” Patrick said suddenly. “We can walk over to the grocery store.”

“Walk?” David protested. He’d perked up at the mention of tiramisu, but wrinkled his nose at Patrick’s suggestion of walking. He caught their waitress’ eye, asking for their cheque.

“Okay, we can drive,” Patrick said.

“This is a business dinner, right?” David said as the waitress brought their bill.

“Of course,” Patrick replied, handing over his card and asking for a receipt. “Though we could probably get a card for the store account now.”

David hummed in reply, dropping a couple of bills in the tip jar and fare-welling the staff in Italian as they left.

“How much Italian do you speak, exactly?” Patrick asked.

“Enough to talk to waiters about food,” David admitted as they settled back into Patrick’s car.

“The important phrases, then,” Patrick said, amusement colouring his words.

“Exactly.”

The few minutes over to the grocery store were silent, but the awkwardness of earlier was gone. David came in this time, looking around at the offerings with interest. Patrick hid his grin. He knew David was wondering what other local products they might be able to sell in their store.

“See anything interesting?” Patrick asked, picking up two tubs of the same tiramisu and handing one to David.

“You’re not planning on sharing,” David asked, looking pointedly between the two tubs.

“I’m not expecting you to share,” Patrick retorted with a grin. He watched David’s surprise turn into a smile before turning back to the registers. He heard David following him, and they stepped back into his car.

They sat in silence for a moment. “You’re thinking you wish you had a spoon, aren’t you?” Patrick asked as David traced the lid of his dessert.

“No,” David replied after two long, deep breaths. “Well yes, now I am. But I was thinking you said you wanted to talk about two things.”

Patrick nodded, his heartrate ramping up again. “I have spoons at my place,” he said. “And Ray’s gone.”

David looked over at him, holding his eyes for a long while before nodding.

Another drive, another silence.

If Patrick had to put a name to David’s mood he would have called it sad.

They climbed out at his place, again without meeting each other’s eyes. The air was cold but not freezing, and Patrick had a sudden urge to sit outside.

“Wait here,” he said to David, passing over his tiramisu. A few minutes inside was enough to gather what he needed and he was back outside with a slightly bewildered David. “Around the side,” he told David, trusting him to follow the short path.

“What is this?” David asked.

“Ray just put it in. He wants to start doing outdoor photo shoots,” Patrick said. He fumbled under the overhead beam until he found the switch.

“Oh,” breathed David. He glanced at Patrick before walking under the wide square arch. “This is beautiful.”

“It’s a good place to sit,” Patrick agreed. There was a single bench seat, and he unloaded his armload of cushions and blankets, waving one arm to David.

“Spoons?” David reminded him, sitting at one end of the bench.

“Of course,” Patrick replied, pulling them out of his pocket. “I even wrapped them in a napkin.”

“So thoughtful,” David said, but there was no sarcasm in the words.

They arranged themselves with spoons and blankets side-by-side with the empty field and sky bleeding together in the darkness. Only the presence or absence of stars denoted the difference, a crescent moon hovering low across to their right. It always made Patrick feel very small in the scheme of things, but in a good way. The first time he’d done this the fairy lights had been blinding, but with the seat shifted a metre further forward, it was little more than a glow around them. The perfect place to sit and think.

Pulling his blanket a little higher around his shoulders, Patrick glanced over at David. He seemed content enough. It would be a shame to ruin that by bringing up something like… He drew a sharp breath, pulling himself up short. No. He would not try to talk himself out of this. Patrick opened his tiramisu, smiling into the shaved chocolate at David’s muttered appreciation of his own dessert. In his head he reminded himself of that conversation with Rachel, and then the look on Stevie’s face when she told him not to fuck it up.

“David,” Patrick said, the first spoonful of tiramisu still lying thick on his tongue.

An inquiring hum was all the response he got. Patrick glanced sideways to see David’s spoon upside down in his mouth. He smiled, but pulled his eyes away. The darkness helped shape the first words of a conversation he’d avoided for a long, long time.

“I’m sorry you thought I was going to leave you.”

David froze, fingers wrapped around his spoon, most of it still in his mouth. In slow motion he swallowed, removing the spoon from between his lips.

“Thank you,” he said, the words hardly more than a whisper.

Patrick breathed deeply. “I get the impression…that’s happened before,” he said.

David nodded, taking another large mouthful of tiramisu without looking at Patrick.

_Don’t want to talk about it. Okay._

“I can’t promise I’ll want to stay in Schitt’s Creek forever,” Patrick said carefully.

David nodded. “Uh-huh,” he murmured. “I know.”

“Right now, I’m ready to sign a contract that…connects me to the store,” Patrick said. “I don’t see that as a short term option, but if you want me to put a time commitment clause in, we can talk about that.”

He watched David carefully. The hitch in his movement was clear, but David still concentrated on his dessert. “I’d like to have that conversation,” David said, his voice low and steady.

Patrick nodded. He took another spoonful of dessert; it was creamy and rich, the coffee strong against his tongue.

“There’s another conversation I’d like to have,” he said. “But I want you to know that it’s…separate to what we’ve already agreed about the store.”

David frowned, and for the first time since they sat down, he shot a glance at Patrick. “What?”

Patrick breathed. “Can we just…I want to tell you about something that happened in Toronto, before I came to Schitt’s Creek. Part of the reason I left, actually.”

“Okay,” David said. His eyes were almost black in the darkness, but Patrick could feel them looking at him intently, half turned away as though bracing for something terrible.

“I told you how Rachel and I broke up for the last time,” Patrick said.

“Yeah,” David replied. “She…didn’t she tell you she’s gay?”

Patrick nodded. “There was more to that conversation,” he said. He swallowed hard.

_No going back now._

“Okay,” David repeated. “And did you want to tell me about that?”

“Yes,” Patrick said. “I haven’t told you, I haven’t told anyone the rest because I thought she was wrong.”

“But now you think she was right?” David hazarded.

Patrick nodded. His heart would break out of his chest any second, he was sure of it. And there was a reasonable chance he’d bring up his dinner unless he did something about his roiling stomach.

“Patrick,” David said, and his name was a question, so Patrick turned.

David was still looking at him, shadows on his forehead giving away his frown. “What did she say?”

“She told me…she thought I might be…” Patrick closed his eyes. “She thought I might be gay.”

David didn’t say anything. Patrick was still amazed at how complete the silence in Schitt’s Creek could be compared to Toronto. Sitting out here the background noise was a distant vehicle, the rustle of an animal in the brush, a cow one or two fields over. Having his eyes closed was strange, but he still couldn’t open his eyes.

“So you left Toronto,” David said. “But…”

“Something changed,” Patrick whispered. This was the moment. When no matter how he phrased it, David would understand what he meant – and things would change again. Irrevocably. If he was going to do this, he had to face it properly.

Deep breath.

Eyes open.

Blink at the stars.

Lid on tiramisu, set it on the ground.

A deep breath and turn to David.

_Oh._

He’d turned his body and now he was facing Patrick.

The different angle changed how the fairy lights hit his face.

Patrick had to blink so he could take him in. He’d thought David gorgeous since first seeing him across the bar, but right now he was simply beautiful. The halo should have cast his face into darkness, but the other side of the arch provided enough light for Patrick to see his expression.

Eyes wide, if dark.

Lips parted as he waited for Patrick to speak; there was nothing amused or light in the twist of his mouth.

Patrick swallowed.

 _Beautiful_.

“Something changed,” he repeated himself. “I met you.”

The three words were tiny, but Patrick saw their impact immediately. David’s eyebrows rose, the drop of his jaw opening his mouth wider as astonishment registered. He leaned back, the blanket slipping from his shoulder as his eyes remained searching Patrick’s face. Patrick clenched his fingers under his own blanket, stopping himself reaching out to fix the blanket. Crowding David was not part of the plan.

“Me,” David whispered.

Patrick nodded. “It’s complicated,” he said, “and I’m not sure exactly when things were different, or when I was sure about what…” he swallowed. “But when Rachel told me how it was when she met Emma, that was nothing like we’d been. She was right, neither of us had ever felt that spark with each other.” He stopped. Should he keep going? Was David humouring him, already knowing how he would carefully let Patrick down, regardless of the rest of his explanation?

“Please,” David said. He glanced down, realising he was holding his tiramisu. Fingers fumbled at the lid before he set it on the ground. Hitching up his blanket, he edged closer until his knees bumped Patrick’s. “What…what else?”

Patrick stared at their knees. Separated by layers of cloth and he still felt the fizz of contact with David.

“I didn’t know what she meant until I met you,” Patrick whispered, addressing their knees. “But when we talked, I was fascinated. And then I got into helping you at the store, and the more time we spent together, the more I wanted to spend with you. And I’m still fascinated, David. Every single day.” Another deep breath, helping him mine whatever courage still remained inside so he could meet David’s eyes again. “I want to be near you all the time. I’ve wanted to reach out when you’re telling me something difficult, to comfort you with a hug, or…” he trailed off. “I feel that spark with you,” Patrick said. “And I don’t know what that means except that I’d like to take you out on a date. If you’d want to. But if that’s not something you want,” Patrick pulled in a breath, allowing his eyes to roam over David’s face, just this once, “I will still stay. As your business partner.”

David swallowed. Patrick could see him thinking, his mouth opening and closing a little before it settled into something like a smile.

“You took me out to dinner,” he said quietly. “To a restaurant I’d said I liked. And you bought me dessert, and didn’t even ask me to share.”

Hope bloomed in Patrick’s chest, a tiny blossom wavering against the barrage of doubt.

“And now we’re sitting outside under the stars,” David said, waving one hand around and following it with his eyes. When they returned to Patrick’s, his breath caught in his throat. David’s eyes were warm, lit by the smile that had spread across his face. “If that’s not a date, I don’t know what is.”

“Oh,” Patrick breathed. “Do you mean…”

David folded back the edge of his blanket, reaching carefully out to do the same to Patrick’s until he found Patrick’s hand with his own. He looked down, smiling at the sight of their hands entwined and sitting on Patrick’s knee.

“I have not always spent my time with nice people,” David said, and Patrick could sense the understatement in the carefully chosen words. “It has made me react,” he thought for a moment, “differently than other people might. In some situations.” Patrick nodded. “That’s not always something people understand.” The smile came back, even wider than before as David continued, “But you, Patrick Brewer, you listen to things I don’t even say.” He pulled in a breath, scrunching up his nose in the way that meant, _I hope that makes sense._

Patrick nodded. “I don’t know how to do this,” he said. The admission felt silly as soon as the words were out.

David nodded in return, thinking seriously before he spoke. “I have dated a lot of people. Like, a lot. But nobody I’ve cared about. Or respected.” He was smiling self-consciously as he added, “Or thought was nice.” Patrick’s heart leapt. “So in a way, it’s like we’re both starting something new.”

Patrick smiled, relief in every particle of his body. “Thank you, David,” he said quietly.

David’s fingers tightened on his, and they sat for a few minutes, fingers sliding slowly across each other’s skin. Patrick lowered his eyes first. It was incredibly intimate, the knowledge sitting between them with neither acting on it further than this. This slow acknowledgement settled Patrick, grounding his heightened nerves until he was breathing faster but deeply, knowing his chest would be visibly heaving. The feeling in his belly was back; it swirled in time with David’s fingers over his knuckles, drawing lazily tighter.

_Arousal._

Glancing up, he saw David’s torso moving the same, breathing like Patrick. Was he feeling the same thing? Patrick was at a loss to know how to go on from here. Rachel had kissed _him_ the first time, and after that he had more or less done what books and movies told him he should be doing. But it was largely academic; this restlessness wasn’t driving him, pushing him to be closer despite his trepidation. He wanted more, in a vague sort of way. That David could provide the _more_ was all he knew for certain.

“David,” Patrick whispered.

He looked up, eyes wide.

_Adorable._

For some reason Patrick remembered how David reacted when he called him adorable, and it brought a smile to his lips.

“What,” David said.

“Adorable,” Patrick murmured, and David’s indignant expression was so familiar he felt his anxiety melt away. It was just David, who he already knew, and liked, and trusted. The rest they could work out, like they’d worked out other things in the last few months.

As his eyes slid lower, Patrick felt the smile drift. This was momentous, but not serious. He could see David’s mouth pull sideways in the crooked smile he liked so much, and flicked his eyes up to check, but David was already leaning closer, anticipating Patrick’s next move.

Kissing was not new, per se, but something in this was as foreign to Patrick as the surface of the moon hanging low in the sky. He could feel himself being drawn to David. It required no effort, and when he felt the air shift as David moved closer, Patrick’s skin tingled.

It was nothing compared to the moment he felt his mouth and David’s meet.

_Oh my God, the songs._

_The songs are right._

Fireworks, stars, the spark he’d thought was so strong at David’s touch, all fell short of this sensation. David’s lips were soft, and the roughness of his stubble was as Patrick had imagined, grazing the edges of his mouth as they moved slightly, settling more fully together.

Finally, he could exhale, quite literally, immediately drawing in another breath as David groaned, one hand untangling itself to cradle the back of his head.

_This is incredible._

Hesitantly, Patrick shifted, his mouth sliding as he experimented with the angle of his head. Kissing had always been nice, and kind of wet, but this was intoxicating. So many details he’d never noticed before.

_Have to stop comparing this to anything._

Instead Patrick concentrated on all the things that were so very David. They deserved his attention, a million tiny details from the rhythm of David’s breath along his cheek to the tiny scrunching motions he was making in Patrick’s hair, his fingertips dragging rough across short hair and scalp. They were things Patrick would never have known without kissing David and elation swooped through his veins, emboldening him. Carefully, Patrick parted his lips, his tongue swiping wide along David’s mouth as he pressed back in for another kiss.

The groan was nothing like David’s ‘this is delicious’ sound. Deep and resonant, this sound called to a deeper need and Patrick felt it shoot sharp desire through his belly. He wanted it again, so again his tongue reached out, but David reacted. When Patrick started, David’s lower jaw loosened, opening his mouth to meet Patrick’s tongue with his own, unapologetically seeking him out. There was no hesitation; this was the insistence he’d realised he wanted in his fantasy, and it was as good in real life as he’d dreamed. David wasn’t forcing anything, neither was he merely reacting to Patrick. He was chasing, the same as Patrick, looking for something.

With a thrill, Patrick realised what it was.

David wanted him.

Wanted him in a way Rachel never had, and was expressing that want the same way Patrick was doing. Exploring, tasting, and with a jolt and a moan he couldn’t contain, Patrick felt David’s hand slide up to cup his hip. Touching.

“David,” he gasped, and David didn’t stop ( _as Rachel would have done, wide eyed an apologetic in case she’d hurt him…stop it, Patrick_ ), his mouth instead drifting across Patrick’s cheek to nuzzle at his jaw and the space behind his ear.

“Mmm?” David purred, right in his ear. “Was there something?”

Patrick opened his mouth to say something, but groaned instead, his fingers biting into David’s biceps where his hands had settled. “I was going…oh my God, I was going to ask…David…”

With a disgruntled sound, David leaned back, meeting Patrick’s eyes with his own, dark and hooded. His lips were red and swollen, Patrick noted breathlessly.

“Patrick,” David said, smiling a little, “now’s not really time for chat.” He smiled again. “Unless you’d like to ask me to stop, in which case, please do.”

“Okay,” Patrick said uncertainly.

The amused look in David’s eyes faded. “Consent is very important to me, Patrick,” he said, holding his eyes. “If you want to stop, I’ll stop. You don’t have to keep doing anything you’re not comfortable with, and you don’t have to explain yourself. If you say stop, I’ll stop. If you want to talk about what you _do_ want to do, or something you definitely don’t, we can do that.” He waited until Patrick nodded. “I was enjoying kissing you,” David said. “And I’d like to keep doing that, if it’s alright with you.”

_How the hell was talking about consent so sexy?_

Patrick swallowed. “I haven’t really had a lot of experience…talking about what I might…want,” he said, wincing at how uncertain he sounded.

“That’s okay,” David said with a smile. “We can take it slow. If you’d rather see how things go, we can do traffic lights.”

“Traffic lights?” Patrick repeated.

David looked at him, blinking. “You’ve really never had these conversations, have you?” he said.

“Sorry, you sound relieved?” Patrick said. “Why are you relieved at that information?”

David shook his head, reaching for Patrick’s hand. “No, I just,” he exhaled, a frustrated sound leaving with the air. “I know you’ve done the proper relationship thing,” he said. “And I haven’t. I just… this is something I _have_ done. A lot. So maybe we’re a bit…even?” The last word was a question, as though he knew how slightly petty it might sound.

To Patrick, it made perfect sense.

“Okay,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss David. Ignoring the moan, Patrick pulled back, just enough to say, “Explain the traffic lights to me.”

“Green for keep going, yellow for pause or discuss, red for stop right away,” David murmured, the words tumbling over themselves, barely escaping before he leaned in to kiss Patrick again.

Patrick grinned into the kiss. “Okay,” he said. “Well in the interests of being honest at the risk of intense embarrassment,” he took a deep breath, “I’m very interested in having your mouth on me. And hands. Tonight, if you’re up for it.”

David grinned. “Oh I’m up for it,” he said, the double innuendo clear. “But to ask you to risk a little more embarrassment and to make sure I’m not crossing any boundaries, can I ask how you feel about any kind of anal play? Because that can involve mouths. And hands.”

Patrick’s mouth dropped open and he felt himself blush hard. Holding David’s eyes was incredibly difficult, and he could see David smirking at him. “Okay, clearly you’re the one who’s done this before,” he muttered, taking a deep breath. “For the purposes of…until we have this conversation again,” he said, “I’m going to say red. In both…in both directions. For that. Is that okay?”

David gave him an admonishing glance, tempered by a small, affectionate smile. “Don’t ever apologise for your limits,” he said, and his tone as far more serious than his expression. “Even if it’s a ‘just for today’ limit, I won’t cross it.”

Patrick leaned in, kissing David as slowly and gently as he could manage. “I know,” he said. “I trust you.”

David blew out a breath. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “That means a lot.” He kissed Patrick again and they melted into each other, enjoying the closeness of their conversation and bodies. “So you said Ray isn’t here?”

The urgency of earlier had abated, but David’s voice, lower and more suggestive than anything Patrick could remember, brought it screaming back.

“Not until Monday morning,” Patrick said.

“Monday?” David repeated, and the slow smile spreading over his face was matched by Patrick’s.

“You know we have to open the store tomorrow,” Patrick said when David stood up, pulling Patrick with him. “And the day after.”

“It’s hours until then,” David whispered. He dropped to his knees and Patrick caught his breath as David looked up at him, eyes wide and innocent as he held up the tiramisu containers. Amusement danced around his face, and Patrick could see he was deliberately lingering in the suggestive position. Another beat passed before he rose.

“Not quite yet,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Patrick’s mouth.

It took a second for his brain to catch up with David, but when it did, Patrick scrambled to pick up the cushions and blankets and follow David into the house.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! You'll notice I've put a chapter total on this story - the proverbial ink is still wet on the first draft of the final chapter! It feels like the right place to end this narrative, though I anticipate other scenes from the universe in the future. If you'd like to know when they appear, subscribe to this story to be notified (no promises on timeline!).

By the time Patrick arrived in the kitchen, David was waiting. The tiramisu was nowhere to be seen, so he assumed it was in the fridge.

“What?” Patrick said, the question automatic after seeing the apprehension on David’s face.

“Are you…” David breathed deeply. “Regrets?” he blurted.

“Regrets?” Patrick asked, hearing the panic in his voice. “What? No! Why would I have regrets?”

David, who looked as though he was bracing for Patrick to confirm his fear and kick him out immediately, relaxed. “I don’t know, I think it’s just a habit to ask,” he muttered.

“No, no,” Patrick said. “No regrets.” He smiled, stepping into David. “I feel good,” he whispered. “I feel…”

He paused, kissing David. It wasn’t the light press he’d planned; David chased it and he melted a little, allowing it to linger before pulling back to finish talking. David’s arms were resting over his shoulders and he felt ribs under his fingertips; a thrill rolled through him at the realisation this was how they fit together.

“I feel like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders,” Patrick said quietly.

“Oh,” David said. “But…” he hesitated.

“But what,” Patrick murmured.

“But,” David didn’t look sure he was doing the right thing continuing to speak as he said, “but you’ve just agreed to buy into the store. And you’ve agreed to,” he waved one hand around, his elbow resting on Patrick’s shoulder, “whatever this is going to be.” His eyes were serious. “I can be…a lot. I’ve been told.” He paused. “It’s true.”

Patrick smiled. “I know,” he said. David closed his mouth, though doubt was still written all over his face. “I know you,” Patrick said quietly. “I know what you’re like.” He smiled as David’s expression shifted. “It’s not a bad thing, you being you.” He reached around, pressing his mouth to David’s throat.

“I believe you called me fascinating,” David murmured, stretching to allow Patrick more room.

“I believe I did,” Patrick replied, barely lifting his lips from David’s neck.

“And that’s still an attractive trait?” David asked.

“It is,” Patrick murmured, pressing the words into David. Carefully, he continued to explore, David’s arms slipping over his shoulders. “Your skin is fascinating,” Patrick murmured. He worked his way down to the neckline of David’s sweater, nuzzling under the edges of it. It was difficult to tell which of his senses was the most overwhelming – between David’s breathy moans, the scent of his skin, warm and pliant under Patrick’s lips, and the feeling of a solid body pressing against him, Patrick’s whole body was pulsing _David_.

“David,” Patrick murmured, and the distracted hum in response made him smile, “I have some proof.” He almost winced at his own words, wondering if it was too corny as he eased his hips forward, pressing into David’s thigh. The friction against his erection was delicious, and his gasp would have been audible had David not groaned. He turned his face into Patrick’s neck, tightening his arms as his body stiffened.

“Okay, I might believe you,” David said, the words strangled.

Patrick shifted, deliberately aligning his hips properly with David’s. His breath hitched as he realised how closely this matched his fantasy. Pressing slowly forward, Patrick felt the difference – David’s thigh was one thing, but the evidence of how David was reacting to him was a heady thing indeed. Patrick angled his hips, fascinated as his cock slid against David’s, running along the length until his hips were pressed to David’s and he was breathing hard into David’s skin.

_Jesus._

“Now?” Patrick managed. His breathing was tricky, especially when he was trying to coordinate it with speaking.

“Now I definitely believe you,” David breathed. He took Patrick’s earlobe in his teeth, tugging until Patrick moaned, winding his arms around Patrick’s shoulders again. “I’ve wanted to do this since you first started helping at the store.” His hands started at Patrick’s shoulders, running slowly down his back until they settled on his ass, fingers splayed wide. “Bending over to pick up those boxes.”

Patrick whimpered; David’s hands were huge, his fingers holding him steady as David rocked back and forward, the slow press and release driving his arousal higher. His head was spinning; holding onto David and panting into his neck was as much as he could manage while David kept moving. It wasn’t enough to make him come, but he was simmering, his blood singing too loud for anything else to make sense in his head.

When David eased his hips to a halt, his hands shifted higher, cradling Patrick’s back again. “What colour?” David murmured, his mouth close to Patrick’s ear.

It took a second for Patrick to remember what he was talking about; when their conversation came back to him he swallowed. “Green,” he replied.

“Upstairs?” David asked. “We can just kiss if you want, or fall asleep together…”

“No way I can sleep,” Patrick said, pulling in a deep breath. Having to concentrate while his body was screaming at him to keep doing what he’d been doing was new; this would explain another whole set of assumptions, stories and media he’d never really understood. Huh. “Come upstairs with me?”

“Okay,” David said, but he didn’t move his feet. When Patrick shifted back, David’s hands caught his face, cradling it while they kissed. It was barely a soft brush of lips, slow and light. The sharp edge to Patrick’s arousal softened; he still craved being closer to David but it was tempered so he could think.

When David finally released him, Patrick blinked at him, eyelids heavy. David was smiling at him, his thumbs tracing across Patrick’s cheeks before he spoke. “Upstairs?”

Patrick nodded. He stepped back and David ran one hand down his arm, not breaking contact as he took Patrick’s hand. He seemed content to follow, one stair behind Patrick until they reached the top.

“I should tell you,” Patrick said, stopping suddenly outside his bedroom. He turned to face David. “This room was furnished when I got here.” He grimaced. “It’s…not exactly my style.”

David grinned, leaning in, and Patrick tilted his head up automatically. The expected kiss didn’t come; David was reaching past him to turn the door handle, and Patrick held his eyes closed as David looked into his bedroom.

“Ah,” David said, recoiling. “Well I’m glad you warned me.”

“Yeah, Ray’s quite consistent,” Patrick said, following David in and closing the door.

“Well, I didn’t come up here for the décor,” David said, turning to smile at Patrick. His smile was warm, but something swooped in Patrick’s belly at the implication. It was a mix of the desire from earlier, but there was an uncomfortable edge to it as he realised they were standing in his bedroom, and everything he’d done and said implied he was ready to…do some stuff. New stuff. Stuff he was excited but anxious about.

_What if I want to change my mind? Can I really do that? He’ll hate me, I can’t stop it now…_

“What did you come up here for?” Patrick asked. His voice wasn’t as light as he’d hoped for.

_What if he’s changed his mind? What if I have no idea what I’m doing?_

David smiled. “I can see you panicking from here,” he said. “I came up here to spend some time with you.”

Patrick nodded, swallowing, his nerves locking his feet to the floor. “Uh-huh.” He could feel David’s eyes on him, but there was no censure in the gaze. “Um…”

David tilted his head, then drew a deep breath. “I just remembered,” he said. “We were in the office. Talking about…the computer situation.”

“Okay,” Patrick said. He had no idea what the link was, between this moment and that. “I remember.”

“I was so sure you were going to be…angry, or something. Yell at me, maybe, or tell me I was an idiot for not having a computer for my business.”

Patrick blinked. “But you sold your computer to pay Annie,” he said.

“You didn’t know that,” David said. He pulled in a breath. “You could see how worried I was. You told me you were going to stand up.”

Patrick nodded. He still wasn’t sure where David was going, but as he concentrated on the conversation, he could feel his nerves calming again.

_It’s David. You know David. You trust David._

“Why…why is that important?” Patrick asked when David didn’t continued.

“Because you knew there was the possibility it would startle me,” David said, his words quiet. “And you were trying to reassure me.” He paused. “Not a lot of people are so considerate.”

A glimmer of understanding came to Patrick, and he flushed when he realised the analogy David was trying to draw. “Are you being considerate right now?” he whispered.

David nodded. “I’m trying,” he said. “Because I can see you freaking out, and I do not want that to happen.” He hesitated. “I’m going to come closer, okay? I won’t touch you without asking.”

Patrick’s next breath was shaky. How did one person’s words make him feel so cared for? He nodded, watching as David paused, then moved carefully, stopping an arms’ length from Patrick.

“What colour are you right now?” David said.

“Yellow,” Patrick whispered.

David nodded. “Thank you for telling me,” he said.

“I thought that kind of thing was only for…” Patrick faltered, feeling the heat that meant he was blushing hard.

“Kinky stuff?” David asked, holding back a grin.

“Yeah,” Patrick replied, determined to hold David’s eyes.

To his astonishment, David shrugged. “It’s useful for a lot of things,” he said. “I thought it might be good while we’re exploring what you like.” He paused. “And what I like.”

Patrick couldn’t help the noise of disbelief that escaped his throat. “From the sound of it you’ve had a lot of practice,” he said. “Do you mean you don’t know what you like by now?”

David held his eyes, but to Patrick’s amazement a flush was creeping up his cheeks, too. “I’ve had a lot of sex,” he admitted, “but a lot of it I was…not entirely sober. And it wasn’t always with people who were nice. Or considerate. Or checked in with how I was doing.” He shrugged off Patrick’s expression of incredulousness. “It’s done, it’s fine.” He paused. “Well, it’s not, but I mean, that’s not the point of what I’m saying.” He took a deep breath. “This is different for me. Than anything I’ve done. And I want to…I don’t want to make assumptions about myself any more than I want to make assumptions about you.”

“Okay,” Patrick said. “I’ll have to do the same. Because you were _very_ comfortable talking before. About what we might do. Or not do. Tonight. Or later.”

David nodded. “That’s one thing I am good at,” he said seriously. “And it’s incredibly important.”

“And embarrassing,” Patrick muttered.

David hummed, tilting his head in partial agreement. “Less embarrassing than jerking away from something you don’t want to do and falling out of bed,” he pointed out. “True story.”

Patrick snorted, then grinned. “Fair enough,” he said. “I’ll have to bear that in mind.”

“Please do,” David said, his eyes locked on Patrick’s. “It’s meant to be fun.”

“What is?” Patrick asked without thinking.

“Sex,” David said, grinning as Patrick rolled his eyes. “That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.”

“One way to find out,” Patrick said, and without thinking he stepped forward. “I think I’d like to kiss you again.”

David’s jaw had slackened as Patrick stepped into his space, but now he grinned again. “Now you’re getting it,” he said, and leaned forward to accept Patrick’s kiss. It was slow; as though the world has eased in its rotation, David and Patrick’s mouths deliberately slow as they slid together. There was no hesitation as Patrick felt his foray into David’s mouth met with his tongue again, the long tangle mirroring the slower pace of their world.

Familiar sparks flew around Patrick’s body. David’s hands on his back were the same as they had been, though they now pressed harder, encouraging his torso to press into David’s. Patrick groaned in the back of his throat, recognising David’s message.

_Show me what you want._

_I won’t break._

His hands were on David’s waist, trembling as he resisted the urge to grab and pull in, but David gave him courage to compromise. He tightened his fingers, suggesting David move closer, and the moan as their hips met again was confirmation he’d been right.

_He wants to know how much I want him, too._

Patrick allowed one hand to come up, cradling David’s head as they kissed, changing the angle so he could chase David’s tongue back into his mouth.

He felt David’s reaction shudder through his torso, his fingers tightening, jaw slackening again until he was panting into Patrick for a long, hot second.

“Patrick,” David whispered. He swallowed, running his open mouth down Patrick’s neck. Fingers came up to play with the top button on Patrick’s shirt and he felt a swoop of nerves as he recognised David’s question before it was voiced. “Can I…”

“Yes,” Patrick breathed. He stood still, closing his eyes to concentrate on the feel of David, breathing hard into his neck as his fingers fumbled with Patrick’s buttons. The fabric slipped as the fastenings loosened; it was taking forever and Patrick wriggled without thinking. David froze, his fingers pulling back.

“Green,” Patrick gasped, pulling his shirttails out of his pants. “Really green…what’s more green than green?” He finally yanked his shirt loose and threw it somewhere, reorienting himself and finding David’s smiling eyes. “What?”

“‘Greener than green’?” David said, hooking his fingers into Patrick’s belt loops and pulling him back closer. “I told you this could be fun.”

Patrick grinned. “You were taking too long,” he murmured, sneaking his fingers under the hem of David’s sweater, deliberately allowing his knuckles to drag against his thighs. “And speaking of…”

“Don’t throw this,” David said, flinching back from Patrick’s touch and taking the bottom of his sweater himself. “It’s Givinchy.”

“I know,” Patrick replied, watching as David folded it carefully on the dresser. He was wearing a fitted white t-shirt underneath it, and Patrick felt his breath catch in his throat. “What?” David said when he turned around and saw Patrick watching him.

“We ask that a lot,” Patrick said, smiling as he moved closer. He raised one hand, hesitating before David’s torso. To his relief, David smiled, stepping closer so Patrick’s hand landed on his chest. “Can I…can we take this shirt off?”

David grinned, holding his arms out in invitation.

Patrick grinned back, keeping his eyes on David’s as he ran both hands down David’s chest to tug at the bottom of his t-shirt. It was fascinating, seeing how his expression changed at Patrick’s touch. He couldn’t remember this being so easy.

_No. No comparisons._

Biting his lip, Patrick slid his fingers under the fabric, his fingertips skittering across warm skin. David’s eyes widened a little, and he swallowed. Patrick ignored the t-shirt for a second; he wanted to feel this first. David’s waist was somewhat familiar, but warm skin against his palm was different. Far more intimate, and from the way David’s pupils had blown out, it was working for him too. Patrick’s hands slid up, the shirt rucking up as his fingertips found David’s nipples, half by accident. The first brush David’s mouth dropped open, but he didn’t speak. Patrick was curious what other reaction he might get, but a shadow of apprehension in David’s eyes made him pause.

“Colour?” he murmured, and the flash of relief in David’s eyes told him he’d done the right thing.

“Yellow,” David said.

“Okay,” Patrick said, resting his palms on David’s ribs. “No nipples?” he asked, forcing the question out as calmly as he could.

David paused before replying. “Gentle,” he said. “Nothing rough. No…no pinching, or anything hard.”

Patrick nodded, easing his hands back up until each of his middle fingers lay over a nipple. “So this is okay?” he asked.

“Green,” David whispered.

Patrick started circling his fingertips, slow and with a little pressure, just enough it wouldn’t be ticklish. “This?” he asked, unable to keep the smile off his face as David’s breath caught.

“Green,” David said again.

“Can I kiss them?” Patrick asked, his fingers still moving.

“Please,” David replied.

Patrick grinned, leaning in to kiss him briefly before he raised David’s t-shirt over his head. “This talking thing’s not so bad,” he said.

“So I noticed,” David said. “It’s hot.”

Patrick snorted, but David raised one eyebrow. “I have some proof,” he said, tone challenging, “if you’d care to see for yourself.”

Patrick’s eyebrows rose of their own accord, and he decided to call David’s bluff. This was their dynamic, the safe and familiar, except they weren’t discussing lunch or where to put a new product. Without dropping David’s challenging stare, Patrick tossed the t-shirt and instead of trailing one hand lower as David would expect, he brought one hand directly to settle over what proved to be a very firm bulge in David’s pants.

“Argh,” David gasped, his torso pitching forward a little.

“Green?” Patrick asked without moving his hand.

“So green,” David gasped.

“And this?” Patrick said, shaping his fingers around the curve of David’s cock and squeezing gentle.

“Jesus,” David bit out. “I thought you hadn’t done this before.”

Patrick shrugged, the compliment sending his confidence into the stratosphere. “Not to you,” he said.

David smiled, but it was a breathless effort; Patrick’s fingers were still putting a little pressure on his cock. He took in another breath and managed, “Can I…I want to make you feel good.”

“Is this not working for you?” Patrick asked archly.

“It is,” David said, “a bit too well.” He looked at Patrick. “But if you keep doing this I might forget how much I want to see your orgasm face.”

Patrick’s jaw dropped open. “My what?” he said.

David grinned. “Now that I have your attention,” he said, “how do you feel about being picked up?”

“Picked up?” Patrick replied. He thought for a second, but the throb in his cock was an obvious answer. “Good, I think.”

David grinned.


	16. Chapter 16

Patrick felt David’s arms wind around his waist. It was a little awkward, with David being taller, but when he tightened his hands around Patrick’s arse and lifted upward, Patrick gasped. David couldn’t quite lift him entirely up, but he held on anyway, shifting the bulk of Patrick’s weight around and dropped him the bed.

“David,” Patrick gasped as David landed over him, elbows braced to take most of his weight.

“Too much?” David asked.

“Nope,” Patrick replied. With a flash of inspiration he twisted his hips, pushing against the bed with his foot as he turned David’s shoulders. David’s mouth was a perfect ‘O’ as Patrick flipped him, landing on his hands and knees straddling David. “Too much?” he teased.

“Uh-uh,” David managed, shaking his head vehemently. “Wrestling?”

“Wrestling,” Patrick confirmed, dropping his mouth to kiss David, hard and deep before backing off, grinning breathlessly as David tried to chase him.

“I think you might have a bit of a strength kink,” David said, returning Patrick’s grin.

“Is that okay?” Patrick asked.

“Um, yes,” David said. His cheeks coloured but he added, “I’m not usually…the smaller person. Or at least, small enough to be…”

“Manhandled?” Patrick asked.

“Exactly,” David told him.

“I’ve never been able to…I mean, I didn’t want to hurt anybody,” Patrick admitted.

David nodded. “I’ll let you know,” he said. “But I am definitely okay with the manhandling.”

Patrick grinned, leaning down to kiss David’s smile. The kiss turned rougher and when David’s teeth took hold of Patrick’s lower lip he groaned through the desire that shot into his groin.

_Oh, yes._

“I’ve never been the smaller person either,” Patrick added as an afterthought, panting. He remembered his fantasy from the previous day, the first time he’d allowed himself to think about himself and David in that way. A shudder danced through him.

“Really,” David said, his voice very interested. His hands stroked over Patrick’s waist, and he started stroking a wide path up and down his sides. “Would you like to tell me more about that?”

Patrick felt himself flush. “Um, about the size thing?” he asked.

David grinned, leaning up to kiss Patrick’s neck until he was able to whisper in his ear. “It’s sexy to hear you say it,” he murmured. When Patrick didn’t reply, David pressed his hips up, reminding Patrick exactly how sexy he found him.

Patrick gasped. Between David’s mouth on his neck and his hands wide on his waist, it felt breathtakingly close to his imagination.

_You could have that._

Patrick swallowed, resisting the urge to return the pressure of David’s hips. “Your hands,” he murmured, relieved to have his eyes closed, David’s mouth still trailing over his neck near his ear. “They’re bigger…bigger than mine.”

“They are,” David murmured. “Sounds like that’s a good thing?”

Patrick hummed. He wanted to explain but he couldn’t find the right words. Instead he leaned to one side, running one hand down David’s arm to tangle their fingers. Panting into his neck, Patrick dragged David’s hand lower, digging his fingers in hard until he gasped. David caught on, bringing his other hand lower to match. Patrick moaned, pressing his body more fully into David.

“So it’s big hands _and_ a bit rough,” David murmured.

Patrick nodded, but the action stuttered to a halt when David’s teeth scraped down his neck. “Green,” he gasped without being asked. “You can…do that. Again.”

“Noted,” David replied. “Was there anything more…specific you had in mind?”

Patrick groaned again. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

“I won’t know if you don’t tell me,” David replied. “But we can just mess around if you’d rather.” His fingers dug into Patrick’s arse again, holding him steady so he could rut into Patrick, slow and rhythmic until Patrick was gasping with it. He wasn’t going to survive this, but what a way to go. Hardly an original thought, Patrick told himself as David eased the action of his hips, yet incredibly true.

He’d never understood it until now.

“I came twice yesterday thinking about you,” Patrick gasped.

David paused, and to Patrick’s amazement, flipped him as easily as he had done earlier.

“You’re kidding,” Patrick said. His heart was pumping blood to sing through his veins as he looked up into David’s wide, dark eyes, arousal pouring out.

“Not wrestling,” David said. He wasn’t grinning; the desire on his face was pulling his mouth open as he raked his eyes over Patrick’s face. Patrick felt him shift, long fingers sliding up his arm to wind around his wrist, pinning him to the bed. “How do you feel about this?” he asked. “Gently.”

“What if I don’t want gently?” Patrick asked, more to see David’s reaction than because of any great desire to be restrained.

How wrong he was.

David growled at him, actually _growled_ , and not only did his fingers tighten but they pressed Patrick into the mattress.

A spike of hot sharp desire burst through Patrick’s abdomen and he gaped, no sound able to exit his throat.

“Colour?” David asked, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Green,” Patrick croaked. “Way more green than I…yeah. Green.”

David grinned. “See?” he said. “This is going to be very fun.”

Patrick, still panting from the blood singing through his veins, nodded. “I think I see what you mean,” he murmured.

“So, would you like to tell me more about last night?” David said. His hand eased, though it was still wound around Patrick’s wrist. He liked it, the suggestion that David could hold him down if he wanted to.

Patrick nodded, licking his lips. “Kiss me first?” he asked.

David smiled, pressing his smile to Patrick’s mouth. They melted together for a while, and when his body calmed down a little Patrick realised David’s thumb was stroking his wrist ever so lightly.

_Careful._

When David slowly shifted again, lifting his head, Patrick’s desire had shifted. _Cooled off_ wasn’t right, that implied he wasn’t as interested. But it was deeper. He felt safe with David. Like he could ask for something, or decline something, and it would be fine. No judgement, just mutual fun. It made it easier to describe his evening last night.

“We’d eaten together,” Patrick said. He could see David’s eyes light up as he started speaking; he really did want to hear this. “I kissed you. And you kissed me back.” He tried to lift his hand, forgetting about David’s hand around his wrist; when he couldn’t he smiled and relaxed. “I could feel your stubble,” Patrick said. The awareness of what he was about to describe made him hesitate, but David lowered his head, sliding his jaw along Patrick’s. The feeling was exactly as Patrick remembered; he groaned.

“What else did I do,” David groaned, right into Patrick’s ear.

“You grabbed my hips,” Patrick said, gasping when David released one hand to do exactly that. “Ki-kissed me. Hard. And pressed me…pressed me against the bench. I could feel…”

The rest of his words were cut off as David kissed him hard, opening his mouth, demanding entry. His hips rolled against Patrick, and with only one elbow holding him up, his weight pressed Patrick into the mattress.

It was glorious.

Patrick groaned, his free hand roaming up and down David’s back. He shifted his hips, allowing David to rest in the vee of his legs. The new angle brought David’s cock to press against the base of Patrick’s as he rolled his hips. It was almost too much; Patrick was rocking in counterpoint without even realising it, his breath coming in little pants.

“Can you feel me now,” David murmured, his voice strained. “Feel how hard you make me, how much I want you Patrick…”

It was enough. Enough to push him over the edge, the shard of desire exploding in his groin. Patrick knew only that David was still on him, something to press against as he chased the cresting arousal. He couldn’t remember coming so hard, and it was a good thing he was lying down. It felt like every particle of energy had been sucked out of him as his body bucked against David.

As he came down Patrick became aware of different parts of his body. David’s weight was still on him; his hips no longer pressed into Patrick’s but were carefully held away. The fingers of his free hand were pressing into David’s shoulder, where he’d presumably been holding on as he rode out the orgasm. And the hand that had been restrained was now intertwined with David’s hand, fingers gripping tight.

It took considerable effort for Patrick to relax the hand on David’s back, smoothing out the fabric still covering his skin. They were still dressed, for goodness sake. And David had barely touched him – nor he David.

_Oh sh…did he come? Should I do something?_

“David,” he murmured.

A hum was all the response, so Patrick opened his eyes. Patrick shifted, registering the last sensation he hadn’t yet noticed. He was still wearing his pants and briefs, but it was uncomfortably sticky in there now. David’s face was pressed into his neck; as Patrick shifted David moved to rest his weight on the mattress.

“How similar was that?” David asked. He sounded…pleased with himself? Patrick nudged him with a shoulder until he raised his face, hooded eyes meeting Patrick’s.

“Did you just ask me how similar that was to what I described?” Patrick asked.

“Yep,” David said, grinning. He rested his chin on Patrick’s chest.

Patrick felt himself smiling in response. “Well, we weren’t in the kitchen, but otherwise,” he felt his breath stutter as he recalled, “it was…pretty close.”

“Pretty close,” David mused. “Well, I might need more details for next time, in that case.”

Patrick was still grinning, but he raised one eyebrow. “You really do have a thing for me talking, don’t you?”

David smiled, but there was a shadow of embarrassment there. “I have a thing for making sure you have a good time,” he said.

Patrick’s smile faded as David’s words sunk in.

“What?” David asked him.

Patrick opened his mouth, debating whether or not he should ask if he was right. Instead he said, “We’re not even undressed and I’ve just come in my briefs.”

“Like a teenager,” David murmured, smiling again.

“Not my experience of being a teenager,” Patrick said. “My point is, I’m having a good time.” He paused. “You’re very good at making me feel…safe. Like I can say what I want. Or don’t want. And other than what we talked about before,” his face coloured, but he continued his sentence, “I think I’d be interested in a lot of things you might do. Or want to do. With me.”

David nodded. “I’ve…not all my partners have been…nice,” he said, and Patrick could hear there was a lot more to that. Impulsively, he tightened his fingers where they were still joined to David’s. “I don’t want to mess this up,” he whispered.

“That’s what the colours are for,” Patrick grinned. He raised his free hand, cupping David’s jaw. “And I trust you not to try something…unusual without asking.” He tried for some humour. “I’m pretty sure you won’t be too embarrassed to ask.”

David shrugged. “Sex stuff isn’t hard,” he started and when Patrick deliberately giggled, he rolled his eyes. “It’s not hard to talk about,” he clarified. “Emotional stuff is…more difficult,” he said carefully.

Patrick nodded. “Well I guess we’ll both have our challenges then,” he murmured.

David grinned, pressing his mouth to Patrick. “Right now my challenge is the state of my briefs,” he said. “I’m not generally one for borrowing clothes but I might not have a choice.”

Patrick blinked at him. “Do you mean…did you come, David?”

David blinked right back. “Um, yeah,” he said, in a voice that said _obviously._ “You were telling me how you masturbated to the thought of me kissing you,” he said, “and then you came right there under me!”

Patrick, whose mouth had dropped open, grinned and kissed David again, hard. David returned the pressure and they rolled together for a second, until Patrick felt his cock stir again in his briefs.

“We should have a shower,” David said, voice rough. “I mean, you can shower first.”

The words had sparked something in Patrick, and he pulled himself to sit up, looking at David, who was scrambling to do the same.

“What?” David asked, and the old question made Patrick grin again.

“I told you I came twice,” Patrick said with a grin. “The first time I was right here,” he patted the bed. “The second time I was in the shower.”

David’s look of confusion morphed into a slightly impressed arousal before his mouth dropped open as he realised what Patrick was suggesting.

“Patrick Brewer,” David murmured, deliberately moving closer, “are you saying you’d be willing to brave the embarrassment of describing what you did in the shower?”

Dammit if Patrick’s brain didn’t hear that tone of voice as a challenge.

“I am,” Patrick said.

“And what would be the point of that?” David said. “I’m sticky too, don’t forget.”

“Oh, I haven’t,” Patrick replied. He grew bold under David’s increasingly heated gaze. “I figured I could either tell you what was happening in my head, and you could…help me with that,” David’s eyebrows rose and he swallowed, “or I can show you what it looked like.”

Whatever David had been expecting, it clearly wasn’t Patrick offering to masturbate in front of him. God, Patrick couldn’t believe himself. But David made him want to be challenged, and something about the way David reacted to Patrick describing the scene in his head told him David would very much like to watch.

He was obviously right.

“Tempting as both those ideas would be,” David said, “I do need to get into the shower myself. So I’d like to get in with you, if that’s on offer.”

“Sure,” Patrick said. He leaned over, kissing David in a far bolder move than he would have pictured himself ever doing.

As they walked toward the bathroom, Patrick felt slightly out of touch with his body. Who was this person, so confident when it came to sex? And not just sex, but sex with this _man_ , someone he’d only just started allowing himself to desire.

_Maybe this is who you actually are._

That was a thought he didn’t have time to dissect right now. Patrick tucked it away as David crowded into the bathroom after him. He could feel David’s body heat behind him, but David didn’t touch him. Waiting for permission, Patrick realised, so he turned, smiling up into uncertain dark eyes.

“Hi,” he murmured.

“Hello,” David replied.

Patrick smiled, watching as David’s expression changed to match. He held the moment before turning to switch on the shower, allowing it to heat as he pulled his remaining clothes from his body. He could see David doing the same thing, and as more and more skin became visible – _oh God, he’s got so much hair, I love it_ – Patrick had to swallow against his dry mouth. By the time he was done, his mildly interested and still sticky cock was definitely filling out.

“Patrick,” David’s voice rumbled from behind him.

He turned, resolutely keeping his eyes up to meet David’s. “Mmm?”

“Shower’s hot,” David murmured. With a wicked little grin tucked into his cheek, David allowed his eyes to wander down the lines of Patrick’s body. It felt like a caress; David was certainly not in a hurry as he noted Patrick’s arms, the pale skin down his torso and the sturdiness of his thighs. He’d skimmed past Patrick’s cock, and by the time he brought his eyes back up to linger there, Patrick felt the slow pulse of a full erection.

“Hey David,” Patrick said, pushing the words past his embarrassment and forcing himself not to cover his erection with his hands.

David’s responding hum was similar to Patrick’s, but his eyes didn’t stray. Patrick could see the smile again and he could tell David was trolling him. That defiance flared again and Patrick, hardly believing he was doing it, brought one hand around to slowly take hold of his cock. It was sticky, there was no way he’d be able to really get a proper slide going; his grip was light, more of a show than anything of substance. He just wanted to get David’s attention.

It worked.

David’s mouth dropped open. As soon as Patrick saw his eyes lift, he dropped his own to waist height, staring pointedly at David in return. It wasn’t his best move; of course as soon as he was staring at David’s cock, he was _staring_ at David’s cock. And it was beautiful. As he watched, his own hand still moving lightly up and down his own shaft, he saw David respond, the twitch as clear a sign as anything that David was into this.

“Hey, David,” Patrick said again. Another hum. “David.” Patrick stepped closer, which seemed to pull him out of whatever trance kind of thing he was in. His eyes rose to meet Patrick, a guilty flush spreading over his cheeks. With a grin, Patrick gave himself one more stroke before indicating the shower, still running while they stood outside.

“The shower’s hot.”

David obviously recognised his own words, and his pursed lips only lasted a second before he was grinning at Patrick.

“I’d like to kiss you before we see if we both fit in there,” David said.

Without a word Patrick took two steps forward, crossing the bathroom until he was standing so close to David he could feel the hair on their thighs brushing together. Of course that meant he could also feel David’s cock against his stomach, sticky but hard.

Their twin groans blended into one sound in the tiny bathroom, undercutting the steady patter of water hitting the shower base. Patrick’s eyes had closed; he gripped David’s biceps, keeping his body as still as possible. David’s breathing was guttural, the harsh sound audible as Patrick tried to steady his breathing. He didn’t step back; the sensation was on the very edge of too much, but he revelled in it. _This_ was what people talked about. _This_ was why people chased sex, wrote songs about it, lusted after people.

_This is who I am._

When he thought he could handle it, Patrick opened his eyes. David was there, watching him, eyes soft. There was arousal there, and the kind of light amusement Patrick knew was kind, not persecutory. How could he not have realised this type of intimacy existed? The moment was quiet, and though sparks of hot sensation raced through his cock as he shifted, Patrick still moved forward, reaching up to kiss David and revelling in being kissed in return. Slow and gentle, David finally pulled back.

“I’m guessing you’ll run out of hot water at some point,” David said. “So should we get in?”

Patrick smiled, following David into the shower. “I don’t even want to know why Ray has such a big shower,” he murmured.

“Ronnie probably did the renovations,” David said. “Why am I telling you this now?” Patrick grinned as water cascaded down David’s shoulders and across his chest. “She’s big on having space for…entertaining.”

Patrick shook his head. “I don’t even want to know how you know that,” he said. “But I’m glad there’s space here for both of us.”

“Speaking of that,” David said, “Were you planning on telling me what happened?” He raised his eyebrows, leaning closer. “Or would you prefer to show me.”

“Since you’re here,” Patrick said, and he slid his fingers around David’s hips, pulling him closer. The water was running between their bodies; it was a detail he’d considered last night, and the reality made him catch his breath. David loomed over him, large without being threatening. Patrick ran his hands up David’s back to his shoulders, remembering what else he’d imagined. As he breathed in, David’s presence all around him, Patrick felt it extend. David had raised his arms; he leaned against his elbows, either side of Patrick’s head, surrounding him further. Water ran down David’s shoulders and over his chest, glistening where it hung in his chest hair.

Turning his face up to be kissed, Patrick felt his arousal pull a little tighter as the water stopped landing on his face. _David’s blocking the water._

David’s mouth claimed his and Patrick moaned, feeling David’s bulk hustling him back until he hit the wall. The tiles were cold on his skin; they were hard against his back. Immobile, trapping him before David. Trapping wasn’t the right word; Patrick felt exactly as he’d imagined. Surrounded and protected, small in comparison, but not trapped.

_Important. Special. Cared for._

As Patrick’s back hit the wall, his head was cradled by David’s hand; for a second he gasped but David took the moment, his tongue insistent in a way that stoked the fire in Patrick’s groin.

“What do you want?” David panted, wrenching himself from Patrick’s mouth, dragging his mouth along Patrick’s jaw.

“Touch me,” Patrick said, finding one of David’s hands and guiding it to wrap around his cock. “Oh…God, David, yes…” It wasn’t rough, exactly, neither was it the tentative touch he’d so often experienced from a woman’s hand. David knew how to be firm enough to bring Patrick closer.

“Can I…” David asked, his other hand dragging down Patrick’s body. He angled his hand in and Patrick tensed as he slowed, teasing a nipple instead of going lower.

“Lower,” Patrick gasped, embarrassment and arousal both robbing him of his words. “My balls…tug on my balls…please David…”

Patrick’s fingers were gripping David’s shoulders now, and when he felt David’s fingers curl around his balls, tugging gently and then a little more firmly, he couldn’t hold in the cry. He was breathing hard now, and if David didn’t stop, he’d come. But there was one more thing, one thing he wanted to hear. David was helping him build his fantasy and there was one more thing.

“Talk to me,” Patrick groaned, tilting his head back to meet David’s eyes. They were looking lower, watching his hands; or as Patrick could see when he followed their gaze, it wasn’t entirely David’s hands he could see. One of his hands was visible, but the mesmerising sight was the head of Patrick’s cock, pink and wet, appearing and disappearing with the movement of David’s hand.

“David,” Patrick groaned, flexing his fingers. He could feel it building again, heavy and deep, and he wanted it to have that same edge, the inevitability he’d only ever felt with David. True, two of those had been in his head, but from his limited real life experience, it was possible here too, and Patrick _wanted_ it.

“Please, please,” Patrick panted, and David finally heard him.

“Patrick,” David groaned. He took one last glance down before dragging his head up, pushing Patrick’s head back again with a desperate, messy kiss, all tongue and panting breath. “I can’t believe you’re here,” David groaned between kisses, somehow managing to tighten his fist around Patrick’s cock. “I want to feel you come again. I want to make you come for real, like I did in your fantasy yesterday. Is this what I was saying? Telling you how good you feel, how good your cock feels in my fist. I want to feel you tighten in my fist, hear you call my name….”

David’s voice continued, interspersed with deep filthy kisses, and the individual words blurred together as Patrick gripped his shoulders, his body tensing. The desperation and arousal were swirling around them, splashes of hot water on his skin, the rhythmic sound of David’s hands working on his body adding to the surrealism.

For a long, timeless breath, Patrick floated, everything spinning.

An instant later, the universe pulled in and his body tensed before exploding. He was shards of light bursting outward, only David anchoring him to the Earth. Every muscle in his body was screaming, and Patrick’s body was a series of unconnected points.

Throat hoarse.

Fingertips tingling against the muscle under David’s smooth skin.

Hips still twitching, as though they may kick again at any moment.

Everything in his groin tingled under David’s now gentle hands; any second he’d be too sensitive.

“Urgh,” Patrick managed, more grunt than anything. “Da…David.”

“Patrick,” David’s voice replied, and his hands stilled immediately when Patrick’s hand rested over his. It took a second before David’s tone registered, and when it did Patrick’s heartrate kicked up again.

He sounded wrecked. Hoarse and desperate. Exactly like you might expect him to sound if he’d just jerked off someone in the shower and hadn’t yet come himself.

Patrick opened his eyes. Everything he could see told him he was right. Hooded, desperate eyes, open mouth breathing hard. David had never looked so beautiful.

“Let me,” Patrick said and David nodded, bracing against the shower beside Patrick’s head. His elbows on the tile brought them close enough for Patrick to kiss him; he made it slow and deep as his fingers skittered down David’s ribs. His nerves flared as he reached a hip bone, but Patrick didn’t allow himself to stop, wrapping his fingers around David’s cock.

A deep groan was his reward, the sound pressed into his mouth as David kissed him, hips thrusting to counter Patrick’s movement. The angle wasn’t the same, but his ever moving hand seemed to be enough for David, who was trying to kiss Patrick but didn’t have the coordination. It was enthralling, Patrick’s eyes darting between watching his own hand on David, the visual complimenting the feel of him, all slick hardness similar to Patrick but with a thrillingly different width, and dragging up to watch David’s face.

His eyes were trying to remain open, though sometimes they fluttered closed; Patrick wanted to remember what he was doing to elicit that response but he was flooded with so much information there was no way he’d remember. David’s mouth was open, sometimes trying to kiss Patrick but mainly panting hard. There were little whimpering noises every few breaths, and Patrick desperately wanted to hear them forever.

Forever was never going to happen; Patrick could hear David getting closer, his breathing harder, the whimpering more frantic; it was mesmerising. Patrick’s fingers tightened without thinking, and David’s breath hitched before he started stuttering.

“Oh God, Patrick…Patrick, yes, ye-yes, oh God…”

The water was still hot enough Patrick didn’t feel the heat of David’s come as it spilled over his hand; he was distracted as it was, watching David’s face contort in the same blissful ecstasy Patrick had just experienced. A rush of endorphins flooded Patrick as David sagged a little. He reached for David’s hips, supporting him to rest his weight a little on Patrick.

David said something, murmured, and Patrick couldn’t hear him over the water.

“How close?” he repeated.

Patrick chuckled. “So much better,” he murmured. Tiredness flowed over him, and he briefly hugged David before adding, “We should go to bed.”

“Are you inviting me to stay?” David asked. “I don’t have my skincare.”

Patrick looked at him, knowing there was real concern under the joke. “If you think you can go one night, we can swing past the hotel on the way into work tomorrow,” he said.

When David protested, Patrick added, “And if you wanted to pack, you could stay tomorrow night too.” He grinned. “And sleep in while I do paperwork on Monday. With clean skin.”

David’s mouth, which had opened to protest, remained open, pleased surprise in them. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Come on, I’m exhausted,” Patrick said, reaching around David to turn off the water.

“Can’t think why,” David replied with a grin.


	17. Chapter 17

Waking on Saturday, waves of realisation came to Patrick.

_There’s someone else here._

_It’s David._

_Oh my God, it’s **David**._

_I’m still tired._

_What’s that noise?_

_Mmm, what day is it?_

_Hey, it’s my birthday._

_Wow._

_Really, what’s that noise?_

Patrick blinked. That was a lot to be thinking after twelve seconds of consciousness. He grinned, his brain informing him that the strange little sound was coming from David. He was snoring, delicate little snuffles that did not match with the large human wrapped in most of the blankets.

“Time to get up,” Patrick said, turning to try and dig David out of the cocoon he’d burrowed into.

“Mhhh,” David groaned.

“Not a morning person,” Patrick grinned. “What if I bring you coffee?”

An enthusiastic nod of the head sent Patrick downstairs. He’d allowed an extra hour this morning, assuming David would genuinely want to swing by the motel to collect his skincare – and possibly pack an overnight bag – but also that it would take a bit of cajoling to get David out of bed.

Waiting for the coffee, Patrick grinned to himself. He wasn’t going to tell anyone it was his birthday. He wasn’t bothered about birthday fuss, and the warmth he felt inside himself was more than enough to make this day feel special. David was waiting for him, in his bed, and from what they’d talked about last night, they were both interested in at least exploring this thing between them.

What more could he ask for?

Patrick made up the coffee – hoping David was okay with creamer and four sugars in lieu of his usual – and took both mugs upstairs. Even the sight of two mugs made him smile, and he wondered how long he’d be able to keep this quiet. Assuming David wanted to? They hadn’t talked about it, actually.

To his surprise David was sitting up when he returned. He looked shell-shocked and barely awake, and he made grabby hands in the direction of the coffee when Patrick walked in.

“It’s not quite your usual,” Patrick apologised, handing it over.

“It’s fine,” David said, drinking deeply. He hid his wince of disappointment fairly well, but it was still clear to Patrick.

“I’ll have to get some supplies,” Patrick said, sitting on the bed beside David.

“Why?” David asked.

Patrick blinked at him for a second. “So you can have coffee the way you like it when you come over?” he said. Halfway through the sentence he realised how presumptuous he was being. What if David didn’t want to come over regularly? Or kind of ever? This bedroom décor was pretty horrendous…

“Patrick,” David said, one hand leaving his mug to rest on his thigh. It was warmer than he expected. “Of course I want to come over. I just didn’t expect you to be so thoughtful,” he admitted.

“Oh,” Patrick replied. He smiled hesitantly. “Well, I want you to come over as often as you want. And I’d like to buy the stuff that makes you feel comfortable.”

“Does that extend to higher thread count sheets?” David asked.

Patrick rolled his eyes. “It might,” he said, mostly to see David’s eyebrows rise with surprise. With a grin he leaned over, pressing his lips to David’s. Warm and soft and definitely _real._

“Morning breath,” David protested, but allowed the chaste touch.

“Coffee breath is more of a worry,” Patrick teased.

“I disagree,” David said, but he was smiling.

“Well we have about,” Patrick checked his phone, “an hour until we’ll need to leave so you can duck into the motel before work.”

“Only an hour?” David said. One hand ran through his hand and he glanced at Patrick self-consciously.

“It was a balance,” Patrick told him. “Between waking you earlier and having more time, or letting you sleep for longer.”

David nodded, trying for a serious expression, but his mouth twitched and gave away his amusement. “Thank you,” he said. “An hour will be enough considering I won’t be doing proper skincare here.”

Patrick nodded in return. “Noted.”

David shrugged. “It takes as long as it takes,” he said.

Patrick didn’t say anything, and they sat together finishing their coffee. When it was done Patrick took their mugs. “Do you want a shower this morning?” he asked without thinking. David’s eyebrows rose, and he didn’t even have to speak for Patrick to know he was remembering last night, too.

“We definitely don’t have time for that,” David said with a grin.

“That is not what I meant,” Patrick told him, knowing his cheeks were heating.

“I know,” David replied, standing up, “but you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Patrick’s mouth dropped as David walked past, his smug expression making it clear he knew he’d just flustered Patrick even further. By the time Patrick was smiling, David had closed the bathroom door, his clothes in hand. Patrick wondered what he was planning to do – his briefs had been hung out but they would hardly be dry – but his attention was caught by his phone ringing.

 _Parents – home_.

His mouth suddenly dry, Patrick glanced toward the bathroom door, hating how guilty it made him feel. Carefully, he placed his phone back on the dresser, closing his eyes as it rang out. He could return their call later, he told himself. It was a work day, for him at least. He didn’t need to feel guilty.

But he wasn’t quite sure he was up to telling his parents about David yet.

Annoyed and frustrated with himself, Patrick turned away from his phone. That wasn’t something he could work out in the next half hour, so he should focus on getting ready for work instead. It was easy enough to choose a shirt and clean jeans, and when he was done restlessness carried him downstairs to wash their mugs out. Since they were running on time – not early enough for breakfast – he figured one of them could run over to the Café for muffins and more coffee after David was ready for the day. The idea made him smile. It wasn’t so much that they would both be there, more that knowing David meant he could plan around what David would need. Skincare first, but coffee and muffins a close second.

“The bathroom’s yours,” David said, coming downstairs. “Sorry I took so long.”

“You didn’t,” Patrick said. “I just need five minutes and we can go.”

David nodded.

“Um, while I’m doing that,” Patrick said, “I didn’t want to kind of blindside you but I don’t know how you feel about…I mean, telling people about us?” His voice made it sound like a question but he pushed through. “I mean, it’s new, and the town is small, I don’t know if you’d want to…” he shrugged. Looking up from the loose piece of laminate counter top he’d been scratching at, Patrick tried to assess David’s expression.

He looked just as awkward as Patrick had felt. “Coming out is a very personal experience,” he said. “You should do it on your own terms, and I,” he swallowed, “I will support that.”

Patrick stared at him. “People here know you’re not straight, right?”

David blinked. “I’m not usually mistaken for a straight person,” he said. “I dated a couple of people here and it wasn’t exactly a secret. So I mean, probably?”

“Have you ever had any problems here?” Patrick said. “Because of that?”

David took a few seconds, and Patrick felt his heart speed up as he waited. “No,” he replied. His eyes, which had been unfocussed as he thought, came back to Patrick. “Not a single person.”

“Okay,” Patrick said, swallowing. “Well, that makes it easier to say, I do not want us to hide. I mean, I know it’s up to both of us but that’s my-oof!”

His nervous words were cut off when David strode over and kissed him. Patrick immediately sagged, leaning into it. Whatever David meant by the kiss, he didn’t really care. Not while David’s lips were on his like this. It took him a second to catch up when David eased back, but when he focused David was gazing at him like he was some kind of unicorn.

“Nobody has ever considered me so much,” David said. He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to make some kind of announcement,” he said. “But I have been someone’s dirty little secret before and it was…a bit…not good.”

“A bit not good?” Patrick repeated.

“Yes,” David said. “So are we doing this?”

Patrick nodded, smiling as wide as his trembling mouth would allow. “Open the door to the closet,” he said, trying for joking. “I’m heading out of there.”

“I’m proud of you,” David said.

“Thanks,” Patrick whispered.

They stepped into a tight hug, holding it a little longer than they might have. Patrick’s breathing slowed until he took a deep breath and eased his arms loose. “We should go,” he said.

“Okay,” David said. He glanced around. “Well, I’m ready.”

“Okay,” Patrick said with a grin. “Five minutes upstairs and I’ll be ready.”

The drive to the motel was short, and Patrick smiled when David disappeared into his room. Stevie walked past at one point, meeting his eyes and mouthing, _finally_ , rolling her eyes to disguise her grin. Patrick waved, the smile on his face remaining until David appeared, a sour look on his face.

“Drive please,” he said tightly, and Patrick did.

“You okay?” Patrick asked.

“My family,” David said. “No idea what privacy is like.”

“So they know?” Patrick asked.

“That I went on a date and didn’t come home all night?” David said. “Alexis knew and she’s terrible with secrets, so yes, my sister knows, my parents know-”

“-Stevie knows,” Patrick interjected as he pulled up. “She spotted me waiting for you,” he added when David stared.

“Great,” David said.

“I thought you were okay with people knowing?” Patrick said. He waited as David collected his bag before unlocking the store.

“’People’ are not my family,” David said. “My family knows how…rough my history is. And they’re likely to point that out at every possible moment.”

Patrick winced. “Sorry,” he murmured.

David looked at him, and to Patrick’s surprise he smiled. “Not your fault,” he murmured, and dropped a kiss on Patrick’s mouth. “Why don’t you open up while I attend to this disastrous skin and my hair then I’ll go and get breakfast.”

Patrick grinned. “Perfect,” he replied.

David headed into the bathroom and Patrick hummed as he opened the store. He found himself standing behind the counter smiling to himself instead of finding something to do. He couldn’t help it, the idea of David now being _David_ had that effect on him. He should be working on stuff to send to Amanda, or signage for the open mic night, but he couldn’t concentrate.

“Patrick Brewer?”

Patrick blinked. He hadn’t even noticed the delivery guy standing in front of him. He really did need to concentrate more.

“Yeah, sorry,” he said. “How can I help you?”

“Delivery,” the guy said, setting a box on the counter.

“Donuts?” Patrick asked, looking at the logo on the box.

“Yep,” he said, giving Patrick a clipboard to sign. “Paid extra to come out here from Elmdale.”

“Thanks,” Patrick said, but the delivery guy was gone. He could see the contents – a dozen filled donuts, his favourite – and there was a card taped to the side of the box.

_Happy birthday sweet boy! Xx Mom and Dad_

Patrick smiled, guilt rising again. He really should call his parents.

“What’s this?” David asked, appearing beside Patrick. “Donuts?”

“From my parents,” Patrick said.

“It’s your birthday?!” David shrieked. He glared at Patrick. “How did I not know about this?!”

“I…didn’t tell you?” Patrick hazarded.

“Well, happy birthday,” David said. He hesitated and said, “Are you planning on eating all those donuts?”

Patrick grinned. “I’ll trade you for a coffee.”

“Deal,” David said. “Dibs on the Nutella.”

Patrick was still shaking his head when David returned juggling two coffees and two borrowed plates. “Go and call your parents,” he said, handing Patrick his coffee and a plate. “I’ll stay here.”

“Thanks,” Patrick said. He hesitated, then gripped his courage and kissed David. It was barely a peck, but it felt monumental. David’s eyes were soft, and Patrick could feel the same message again.

_I’m proud of you._

Patrick took his phone, coffee and donut into the office. He closed the door, feeling odd, as though he was hiding. He was making a personal phone call in a workplace, he told himself. Of course he would close the door. The thought was still nagging at him when he sat down, lining up his blotter as his mind stuttered. His donut – a glazed jelly, his most favourite – stared at him, which was a ridiculous thought, he told himself. With a deep breath he picked up his phone and called his parents.

+++

David looked apprehensive when Patrick emerged half an hour later. He was serving a group of women, so Patrick helped Roland decide between the scented and unscented foot cream. It wasn’t until the women and Roland were gone that David could ask how the phone call went.

Patrick nodded. “Fine,” he said. “We haven’t talked for a while. They wanted to know what was going on here, so I told them about the store, our ideas for the future,” he took a deep breath, “and how I’m going to stay here.”

David, who had been fussing with the lip balms, turned to Patrick, his fingers frozen. “What?” he said. “You told your parents that?”

“Yeah,” Patrick said. He stepped closer. “And when they said they should visit the town their son is going to be living in, I said they’d have to meet you.”

David nodded. He opened his mouth and closed it again, but Patrick understood his question even without the words.

_What did you tell them about me?_

Before Patrick could answer, Alexis came bursting through the door.

“Patrick!” she admonished him. “You didn’t tell us it was your birthday, you sneaky little button!”

Patrick, his mouth hanging open, glanced helplessly at David.

“What do you want, Alexis?” David said. “You can’t have any more lip balm unless you actually pay for it.” His hands spread over the display as though protecting it from her.

“Whatever, David,” she said, waving one hand without looking at him.

“How did you know it’s my birthday?” Patrick said. Gossip in a small town was one thing, but this was quite another.

“David posted on the store’s Insta,” she said nonchalantly.

“You did?” Patrick said, looking at David, at the same time David said to his sister, “You follow the store’s Insta?”

“Duh, David,” Alexis said. “I’ve been retweeting your posts, they’re cute.”

Patrick could see David drawing himself up to argue that his posts were _not_ cute, they were art, but before he could, Alexis continued blithely, “Oh come on David, if Joanna Gaines thinks they’re cute, I think you can admit it.”

“Who?” David said in the exasperated way he spoke when he just wanted his sister to stop talking. Patrick hid his smile. He loved being able to read David like this. Even better was knowing why he was so interested and no longer having to hide it.

Patrick stepped behind the counter, smiling at the customer as he bagged her candles, his mind still concentrating on the conversation happening beside him.

“Urgh, David,” Alexis cried. “The woman who does that show with her husband, what’s it called?” She waved her hands for a second, scrolling on her phone until she found something. “ _Fixer Upper._ ” She glanced up at her brother. “The renovation show?” He still looked confused, so she continued, “They like, make people’s gross houses better or something. I repost all your pictures, David, with proper tagging so the right people see them. And she likes your style, so you’ll probably get like, a phone call from them about supplying homewares for their houses.”

“Yeah, right,” David scoffed, and Patrick was privately inclined to agree. He gave the customer a final smile before turning to David and Alexis.

“For your information, David, someone from her company already DM’ed me, so it’s practically guaranteed.”

Patrick could feel his jaw dropping as she talked. “Are you serious?” he couldn’t help asking.

“Of course,” she replied brightly, her disdainful attitude gone. Patrick was kind of glad that was reserved for her brother. “They might want to stock your skincare and stuff in their bathrooms too, I don’t know.” She smiled at him. “Now, if you’re going to optimise your social media content, you really should considering employing an expert.”

Patrick glanced down, to where Alexis had pressed a business card into his hand. He looked up, and she booped him on the nose before walking out, waving her fingers at both of them. Blinking, he brought the card up to his eyes.

_Alexis Rose Communications._

“I didn’t know your sister was doing that,” Patrick said.

“Neither did I,” David replied. He pointed to the card. “What’s that?”

“Her card,” Patrick said. He watched David take it and read it several times. “You know, if we start getting people calling and wanting stuff posted, we might have to set up some kind of mail order system.” He added, “And we should talk to the vendors, see how they feel about supplying us with more product to support potentially larger orders.”

David stared at him. “That is definitely not my job,” he said, pointing at Patrick. “Except for the talking to vendors.”

Patrick grinned, pointing back. “That is definitely not _my_ job,” he replied.

David nodded, the smile slow to spread. “Oh my God,” he whispered. “Are we worried about having too many customers?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Patrick said, “but it’s definitely a good thing if someone with a large following is interested in your Insta page.”

“ _Our_ Insta page,” David corrected absently.

“Yeah,” Patrick whispered. He and David stared at each other for a second. “Well there’s a lot to do,” Patrick said. “I should get thinking about how to structure some of this, in case it has to happen fast.”

“Don’t forget we need to get that contract written up, too,” David said.

“It’s on my list for today,” Patrick replied. He reached up to kiss David, still marvelling at being allowed to do it, at wanting to do it, right here in their store while customers browsed. “I should get started.”

“Sure,” David said.

The morning flew past. Patrick was surprised how focussed he managed to be, and by the time he paused to stretch, he was pleased at the tasks he’d crossed off his list. A friend from Toronto was going to look over the books for the store so Patrick and David could make a decision about how much Patrick could afford to buy in, and an old colleague sent through a standard contact for Patrick and David to look over when they next talked. The outline for the open mic night was more or less done, and it wouldn’t be too much work to continue it. Even with everything else going on Patrick was hoping to convince David they should run at least one night fairly soon. Most of the work they’d do now was for mid- to long-term projects, and people wouldn’t see it. Plus, if he was honest with himself, Patrick wanted to host an open mic again. He had loved doing it all those years ago, and something told him it would be a success here.

He’d drafted an email to Amanda with the information she’d requested, including the vendors’ details. David hadn’t talked to the other vendors yet, but Patrick was confident everyone would be on board. It was such a good opportunity, and David was so good at talking to people…His mind wandered for a while, thinking about David, and he was relieved the draft email was in a Word document; it stopped him accidentally sending Amanda his reminiscences about how wonderful David could be.

Hardly professional.

Several new spreadsheets for when he had numbers to wrestle, and Patrick was ready for a break. The next year would be a lot of work, and it was a relief he’d already talked with David about him staying. He could already see David’s face when he saw what they’d need to do, and it made him smile.

“Something funny?”

Patrick turned, the smile already widening just at the sound of David’s voice.

“Not really,” he replied. “Is it lunchtime?”

“It is,” David said.

“Good, I’m starving,” Patrick said. “One donut is not enough breakfast.”

“That would be why I ate three,” David said with a smug expression. It softened as Patrick rolled his eyes. “Lunch?”

“Lunch,” Patrick agreed. “Hang on, can I smell…”

“Pizza,” David said, pulling two pizza boxes from around the corner where he’d been hiding them. “I had _Ciao Bella_ deliver for your birthday.”

Patricks’ heart swelled. “Thank you,” he murmured, standing up to kiss David. “That’s lovely.”

“And I’ve closed the store so we can eat together,” David said. “Just because it’s your birthday.”

“Good,” Patrick replied, ignore the warmth in his belly. David was far more considerate than he though himself to be. “I can talk you through some of what I’ve done.”

“Well that sounds ominous,” David said, settling in. “Let me eat some pizza first, though.”

Patrick grinned, waiting until they’d both eaten some before starting in on the work talk. As he outlined the projects coming up, David’s expression was more or less what he’d expected. It was a lot, and Patrick had to pause at one point.

“Don’t forget I’ll be here,” Patrick said. “And a lot of this is stuff to do in the future.”

“I know,” David said through a bite of pizza. “But it’s just a bit…overwhelming, you know?”

Patrick nodded. He’d had similar reactions from people he’d helped before, people who thought their dream business was going under only to have it turn around. He placed his hand on David’s knee, rubbing circles with his thumb.

“If Alexis was telling the truth about that Instagram person,” Patrick said, “it means she’s been able to reach the exact target audience we’d hoped for. Weird as it could be, it might be worth hiring her to manage the social media for the store. Especially if you want to talk to some of the vendors about making their products available online. Some items won’t travel well, but we could offer short term offers on specific products, which would hopefully drive demand as well as making sure we can still offer our full range in store.”

David nodded. “I haven’t called any of the vendors about the tours yet,” he admitted. He glanced at Patrick. “I wasn’t really thinking too well since we got back.”

Patrick smiled. “It’s fine,” he said. “Me either.” He didn’t mention how he’d thrown himself into his work to escape. They clearly had different coping mechanisms, and none of it seemed relevant now that they were here. Together. He picked up another piece of pizza. “Maybe you could do phone calls this afternoon? Talk to the tour vendors so I can confirm with Amanda, and make a list of products we might consider putting online if there’s demand.”

“How will we know if there’s demand?” David asked.

Patrick shrugged, swallowing his pizza. “I would guess this is where Alexis comes in,” he said. “Starting something new is a bit about gauging your audience – or customers – and a bit about risk.” He smiled at David, sensing the double meaning in his words. They’d both risked, professionally and personally, and it had paid off.

“Your sister could help.”

David’s nose wrinkled at Patrick drew their conversation squarely back into the professional realm. “Can we afford to do that?”

Patrick nodded. “I’ve ordered you a laptop,” he said. “Sales have been improving. And I’m going to fold the hours I’ve already worked into the financial assessment of the company, so I won’t be taking money out for that.” He paused for a beat, allowing David his ‘I’m pretending to be cross but actually I’m quite relieved’ expression before continuing. “And it’s an investment in,” he paused again, unable to hold back his smile, “ _our_ business.”

David’s smile was worth the theatrics. “Our business,” he whispered. “I’m not changing the name,” he added, throwing an anxious look at Patrick.

“Of course not,” Patrick replied.

He leaned over, making a note then tearing the page off and giving it to David.

“Things For David To Do,” David read. “Well I suppose this is my afternoon task list, then.”

“It is,” Patrick replied with a grin. “I can stay and man the store so you can make your calls.”

“Oh, speaking of calls,” David said, and there was an exaggerated casualness that made Patrick blink. “How did it go with your parents?”

“I already told you,” Patrick said.

“You said they wanted to meet me,” David said. He took a deep breath. “So…is there a date for that? Am I your business partner? Your… _partner_ partner? Or…not?” He was twisting his rings again, the anxious action Patrick hadn’t seen for a long time.

“I don’t know when it will be,” Patrick said. “I thought I might invite them up when we have the open mic night.”

David groaned. “I thought we might have shelved that idea,” he said.

“Nope,” Patrick said with a grin. “Still want to generate a community of people around the store, David.” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t tell them about…us today. But I will before they come up.” He reached over, taking David’s hand. “I don’t want us to have to hide, not here.” He smiled. “I don’t want you to be anyone except yourself.”

David nodded, leaning in to kiss Patrick. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Patrick grinned. “I did call Rachel,” he said. “And I told her.” His expression changed as he realised this might be awkward. “She said she’d love to meet you.”

David nodded. “Okay,” he said.

“Given I’ve met at least one of your exes, I figured that would be fine,” Patrick said with a grin.

“What?” David said. “Who?”

“Stevie,” Patrick replied, chuckling when David groaned.

“She told you,” David muttered.

“Yep,” Patrick replied. “How many others did you introduce yourself to around here?”

“Less than you might think,” David said firmly.

“Okay,” Patrick said. “Well, if it wouldn’t be weird, she and her girlfriend might come up for the open mic, too.”

“The more the merrier,” David said, though his tone was sincere.

“Now you’re getting it,” Patrick said with a grin. He kissed David again, deep contentment forming and flowing through his body. The business was good. David was good. His parents and Rachel would come and visit, and David would woo them with his excellent people skills.

As birthdays went, this one might be the best so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has followed this, and if you're not a WIP person, thank you for reading all the way through now it's done! I've loved exploring David and Patrick more deeply, and having everyone along for the ride makes it even more wonderful.  
> Take care of yourselves and your loved ones <3 Blue
> 
> Find me as oneblueumbrella on tumblr or twitter


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